


Love and Other Drugs

by LittleMissStark



Series: Under the Stars in Italy [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF T'Challa (Marvel), Clint Barton is sort of an asshole in this but i love him, Depression, Explicit Sexual Content, Guilt, Hallucinations, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, I try not to character bash but it happened anyway, I try to be impartial but this is mainly biased towards Tony, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Insight, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark Friendship, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Not A Fix-It, OOC steve, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Precious Peter Parker, Protective James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Protective Nick Fury, Self-Hatred, Sorry Not Sorry, Steve Rogers Angst, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers-centric, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Therapy, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, not a happy fic, not really team cap friendly, not wanda maximoff friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-07 04:09:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 43,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12832983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissStark/pseuds/LittleMissStark
Summary: Steve hated the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor, the whoosh of the ventilator, and the drip, drip, dripping of the IV fluids. Is this what Tony’s life came down to now? Artificial noises in a bland room which smelled of antiseptic and misery? Is this what it came down to? After everything?Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.And he was plugged into a machine in order to help him breathe.Because he was in a coma.Because he had swallowed an entire bottle of pills.No one had noticed until someone needed him.





	1. Tell Me Why

**Author's Note:**

> This work is finished! Updates should be every three days :)

Steve hated the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor, the whoosh of the ventilator, and the drip, drip, dripping of the IV fluids. Is this what Tony’s life came down to now? Artificial noises in a bland room which smelled of antiseptic and misery? Is this what it came down to? After everything? 

Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. 

And he was plugged into a machine in order to help him breathe. 

Because he was in a coma. 

Because he had swallowed an entire bottle of pills.

No one had noticed until someone needed him. 

… 

Steve squeezed his hand tighter. 

To the soldier, the concept of being felled by tiny capsules in a bottle smaller than his palm was baffling. Disconcerting. Earth’s mightiest heroes and one of their own had been toppled by the smallest enemy. 

_ He wasn’t trying to kill himself.  _ Steve would think whenever another day passed that Tony did not wake up.  _ He took sleeping pills. He was only trying to go to sleep.  _

_ He just wanted to sleep.  _

Technically, Steve wasn’t supposed to be there. Technically, he was still on some sort of bullshit parole program the government had put on all of the ‘Rogue’ Avengers when they had returned. No driving after 11 PM, no visiting public places after midnight till 6 AM, no domestic altercations or it was back to the pokey. Yeah. The usual. 

But it was 2 AM. He was still in the Compound, just the medical wing. So he wasn’t breaking any rules, right? He wasn’t doing anything wrong. 

Right. 

_ He just wanted to sleep.  _

“I want to know why.” Steve asked the pretty much lifeless body before him. He asked briskly, like he was giving an order. 

Like Tony was still listening. 

And maybe he was. The doctor said that it was possible he could hear them when they spoke so even though he won’t respond, he’ll still listen. Maybe. 

But then again, Tony was never one to listen. No, he never listened. 

Up until a point. 

But by then it was too late.

It was now, in a hospital room at 2 AM wearing nothing but faded clothes and a sweater that Steve wished that Tony had stopped listening. For only even a second. 

Maybe he wouldn’t be in that bed if he just hadn’t listened. 

But now Steve was just being a hypocrite. 

“Why, Tony?” He asked again. Steady voice. Commanding voice. Don’t let the little things distract you--that kind of thing. Just because Tony was in a coma and he may never wake up again because it had already been two weeks, doesn’t mean jack shit. Nope. Nada. Absolutely not. 

But Tony wasn’t answering. Maybe he never would. 

“ _ Why?”  _ He clamped his mouth shut with a hand and silenced the scream. 

A nagging voice in the back of his head said, in Tony’s voice:  _ You know exactly why. You know.  _

Steve would yell back:  _ No, I  _ **_don’t_ ** _ know. But there has to be a reason. There must be some reason. There has to be.  _

And Tony, in a sing-song voice, would whisper in his ear.  _ You’re in denial.  _

“Why did you do it, Tony?” 

_ You already know.  _

“I don’t know. I don’t. Tony, please wake up. Please tell me why.” He grit his teeth as his soldier’s voice withered into that of a pathetic, tearful whimpering. From there, his words only became heavier and Tony’s hand--Steve was grasping it now with a desperation he didn’t know he had--only became colder. 

The door creaked open behind him and Steve could care less that he was crying. That he wasn’t supposed to be there. That whoever was watching him was probably pitying him but Steve didn’t fucking care anymore because Tony  _ wasn’t waking up  _ and the whispering in his ear had stopped, as if the ghost had faded and now  _ he was all alone  _ and… and… 

_ Fuck.  _

Natasha was the one who placed the hand on his shoulder as he sobbed. Open and ugly and unrestrained. He hoped Tony heard. He hoped Tony would feel guilty. He hoped that selfish bastard would open his eyes and call him ‘Capsicle’ so that Steve could roll his eyes and Natasha could smirk and Tony would… he would  _ laugh  _ and it would be the most beautiful sound in the world. 

“You should go rest now.” The assassin soothed. “Get some sleep. I’ll stay with him.”

“I  _ can’t. _ ” Steve choked, clutching that stupid, pale hand tighter. “What if he wakes up and I don’t get to be the first one to tell him that I  _ hate him  _ for doing this to me? What if something happens and he gets worse? What if… what if he…  _ what if he di--?” _

“Steve.” Her voice was clear cut. An order to be quiet now. “Go to sleep.” 

He shot up out of his hard, wooden excuse of a chair and spun around violently. He loomed over her and looked deep into those emerald eyes which held the world’s pain in them, despite being so dry. He looked into those eyes with a murderous gaze and he growled every word he spoke, making her backup every time he took step after menacing step. His pointer finger stabbed into her collarbone every time he spit out a hateful word. “Don’t you dare tell me to go to fucking sleep when your robotic, emotionless ass is here at fucking 2 AM too. Don’t tell me to go rest when I can’t close my eyes without asking myself why _ I’m _ allowed to wake up after going to sleep and Tony  _ isn’t.  _ And don’t you dare-- _ don’t you dare  _ come in here on your high fucking horse and tell me that you’ll stay with him as if that’s going to reassure me in any way whatsoever.  Just-- just…” 

The words shriveled up and died in his throat and he swallowed them down like bile. The only sound which escaped past his lips was a squeak. His body, which had been stiff and cold like a soldier, sagged. His posture fell apart.  _ He  _ fell apart. 

And Natasha--who had not flinched, had not shed a single tear or even frowned at him when he screamed--she held him as he crumpled to the floor.

“He keeps telling me I know why.” He was whimpering now. His words jumbled and merged together like paint on a palette except this paint was fucking dirt brown and a black from the deepest pits of hell. The letters became fluid and the sentences became worthless babbles all laced with the undertones and cries of   _ why, why why?  _ “But I  _ don’t know.  _ I don’t.”

She let him bury his face into her shoulder and caress his back with her feminine touch. 

“Yes you do, Steve.” She soothed, bringing him closer. “We all do. We just don’t want to admit it.” 

Steve thought that was the most bullshit thing he had ever heard. 

Mostly because it was true.

* * *

 

He went to Tony’s workshop a lot nowadays. Why wouldn’t he? The engineer wasn’t around anymore to put it on lockdown mode. 

The place looked untouched. Steve would think that Tony would at least tidy it up a little before he did what he did. 

But then it would seem as if Tony was preparing for something special and Steve would rather the man hadn’t seen it that way. 

Anyway… there were papers strewn everywhere. Not just on the several desks or tables, but on the floor. Parts of unfinished designs yawned open and around like Tony hadn’t even left. Like he was going to stroll out of the elevator any second now, holding a cup of rocket fuel he called coffee and wearing sweatpants and a band t-shirt which was stained with oil and grease. His hair would be disheveled and his eyes a little tired. But Tony would smile, say something witty or something stupid and Steve would roll his eyes and then nothing would have ever changed. 

Except-- except after everything that happened in Leipzig and Siberia, after having spent so much time in Wakanda because he had been deemed a war criminal or whatever the fuck, after betraying a friend--or was it something more?-- things weren’t normal. 

_ Everything  _ changed. 

In the days leading up to what Tony tried to do, Steve had waited out in the corridor with peace offerings: food, coffee, companionship. Anything, really. And every time FRIDAY would tell him that  _ Boss has placed the lockdown protocol on me, Capt. Rogers. You don’t have permission to enter until Boss lifts it.  _ And then Steve would snarl at the ceiling because he never got rid of that stupid habit.  _ “Well then, override it! Use my override code! He hasn’t come up for four days, it’s time he ate something or went to sleep!”  _ But then FRIDAY would tell him that his override codes no longer existed. Why? Because Tony didn’t trust him anymore, that’s why. 

Because Tony would never trust him again. 

Because Tony might never love him again either. 

Steve flipped one of the tables over. It rolled a couple of times and several papers and blueprints, mechanical parts,  _ weeks  _ old coffee in one of Tony’s favorite mugs, all went flying. He leaned back and watched his mess. It aggravated him. 

So he turned around and threw another table at it. This one split in half on impact. Steve smirked when that happened, finally satisfied. 

He hunkered down on that stupid swivel chair Tony loved so much. The man had been fifty years old, his hair resembling salt and pepper, and yet still, like some sort of child, he would sit there and spin aimlessly, lifting his feet off the ground and swinging his legs while he was at it. He was-- _ is-- _ so short. 

Steve had loved it. He had thought it was adorable. 

The chair felt too cold now. He couldn’t smell Tony on it anymore. It made Steve a little anxious. 

He had never sat on the other side of Tony’s desk. He had never sat at it at all. There were things on this desk he had never seen before. Small, irrelevant things. Things which made Steve wonder if he had ever really known Tony at all: a picture of him as a child with his mother, a picture of him, Pepper, Colonel Rhodes, and another tall man whom Steve had never met before, tiny gifts or souvenirs which Pepper had probably gotten for him during all her business trips, a picture of the original team… 

The frame had been cracked. The jagged pieces of glass were still stuck onto the broken structure as if Tony had pieced it back together one by one meticulously. Steve thought about those nimble, strong builder’s hands. 

Then he thought about how cold and bloodless they had seemed attached to Tony’s limp body back in that hospital bed. 

There was a dent in the middle of the desk now in the shape of a fist. It caused the metal to dip down awkwardly and several things on that desk to fall over. The glass pieces fell apart so easily, it brought tears to Steve’s eyes. 

Or was that really why he was crying? 

Steve wondered if Tony’s arc reactor had looked like that after he had pierced his shield through it. 

_ My arc reactor?  _ Tony was laughing in his ear. No,  _ cackling.  _ It was a hysterical laugh, one which only meant that the person laughing was losing their mind.  _ Please. Imagine what my  _ **_heart_ ** _ looked like after you pulled off that magnificent stunt.  _

Or maybe it was the person hearing the voice of a person in comatose who was really going batshit crazy.  

Steve screamed. Bloodcurdling. Heart wrenching or clenching or breaking or whatever the flying fuck. His fist found the same dent and he hit it and hit it and pummeled the shit out of it. 

And then it broke in half. Would Tony be mad at him for destroying his workshop when he woke up?

_ You idiot.  _ It was his voice. It wasn’t him. It never would be.  _ You mean,  _ **_if_ ** _ I woke up.  _

“SHUT UP!” If he bellowed loud enough, would Tony hear and startle awake just as how he had when the Hulk had roared at his lifeless form when he had fallen back from the wormhole?  “TELL ME TO MY FACE, YOU FUCKING COWARD! STOP WHISPERING IN MY EAR AND TELL ME TO MY GODDAMN FACE!” 

His breathing was labored, despite the serum in his veins. The screams turned into whines which then turned into whimpers which then turned into sobs but none of that mattered right now anyway because Tony was the one who should be wanting someone to hold him right now, not Steve, but Tony was  _ not waking up.  _

He wasn’t waking up. 

There was a slow, sad beeping. Steve turned towards the noise in the midst of his flushed face and tear stained pity party. He looked around him. It was one hell of a party. 

DUM-E and the other bots: You and Butterfingers, all stared at him from a distance, as if they were witnessing the destruction to their home. As if they knew that their father was gone and likely would never come back. 

They were hanging the tops of their heads. Steve thought it was because they were disappointed in him. 

And maybe they were. Tony always talked about and to his bots as if they were alive and truly his children. 

Well didn’t that just make life ten times more depressing? 

DUM-E was nudging at something on the floor, but he couldn’t get a grasp of it. Steve chuckled sadly. Tony had always said that DUM-E was the clumsiest of all. 

So Steve picked up the small black rectangle the robot was pining for and brushed a thumb over the cool metal. It was a USB stick. 

Once Tony had used one of these in front of him and Steve had asked what it was and how it worked. Tony had laughed at him and called his cluelessness “adorable” before pulling Steve down next to him and showing him everything he needed to know. 

Steve pressed the black rectangle to his lips. Tony’s fingers had touched this. Tony had used this when he was awake. He held it against his cheek like how a child might hold a stuffed animal to his or her chest. He wondered if Tony could see him now, would he call this adorable too? Would he laugh or smile or just shake his head at him and roll his eyes? Would he call him pathetic? 

Steve called himself pathetic. 

He left Tony’s safe haven in shambles and his bots to beep in protest as he took that small stick back to his quarters. 

The Compound was always bustling. It was modernistic, full of people, and had everything anyone could ever need. Tony had remodeled the entire thing. He had included everything for all of them despite the history and despite the hate and the bitterness seeping between them all. He had built a prototype of a new shield, despite the old one being lodged in his chest.  He had embodied himself in every new design, in every replaced tile, in every new piece of furniture or tech. The Compound  _ was  _ Tony in and out of itself. His essence was buried within its walls. 

He was  _ dying _ within its walls. 

In his room, Tony had put a new laptop on his nightstand table. He had also had the walls painted a beautiful light blue color. The same color as the sky. Steve had told Tony his favorite color was light blue a long time ago in a conversation he had forgotten. Tony had remembered. 

The laptop was a welcome home gift. Tony had said so himself. He had left a list of instructions on how to use it as well. “ _ Just in case you ever need any help. _ ” He had said. 

Steve had told him that it wasn’t necessary. “ _ No need to be patronizing.”  _ Had been his response. “ _ I’m not stupid.”  _

To which Tony had smiled. A soft thing which didn’t reach his eyes.  _ “Of course, Cap.”  _ A heartbeat.  _ “Sorry.”  _

Steve had turned away and Tony had left. 

Now he wished he could have just said ‘thank you.’ Not just then, but from the beginning.  _ Thank you for giving me a home, Tony. Thank you for trying to help me in this century, Tony. Thank you for putting food in my mouth, clothes on my back, and a roof over my head, Tony.  _

He thought about morals and ‘doing the right thing’ and ‘respecting boundaries.’ 

Then he plugged the USB in anyway. Who even cared? He had thrown all those superficial expectations away when he had broken the law back in Bucharest. 

The content was not encrypted. Not even password protected. There was only one folder named DUM-E. Steve clicked on it. 

There were five videos. Two of them were from years ago. Back when The Winter Soldier was not a part of their lives and they were all just getting to know each other. Back when they didn’t have enough memories to hate each other and the world was settling down from the Chitauri attack. 

Everything had been at peace back then. The surface had been smooth, not full of cracks and crevices like they were now. Steve wished Tony hadn’t fell through the largest one. He wished it hadn’t been so easy for such a large divide, such a large crack, to form between them. Big enough to swallow one of them up. Big enough to destroy everything. 

The first video was from 2013. It was after Tony had defeated the Mandarin and saved the president with Colonel Rhodes. Steve remembered that year. Especially the deep, deep chasm which had appeared in his heart when he saw the newspaper. “TONY STARK PRESUMED DEAD. MALIBU MANSION DESTROYED BY MISSILES.” He remembered how that had felt, when his gut had dropped to the center of the Earth and he had been dragged along with it.  

Had Tony felt the same way when he had left him in Siberia? Or had it been worse? 

He didn’t think about it. He clicked on the video. 


	2. Candyman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At the time, Candyman by Christina Aguilera was stuck in my head so this happened.

_ It was slightly after Christmas, a couple of days after New Years maybe. Steve didn’t remember. The camera was shaking a little and the camera man--Tony--coughed. They were at the Tower  and the Christmas decorations were still up. The scene opened with Clint ordering JARVIS to play Candyman by Christina Aguilera. Tony said something about not having good music taste and Clint gave him the middle finger.  _

_ The archer swept Natasha up and was dragging Bruce to his feet as the beats began. The redhead threatened everyone with impalement before Clint began to do the Charleston and she quickly joined with a grace that had everyone clapping. Tony whooped and cheered her on from behind the camera. His laughs filled the air as Clint began to force Bruce to dance as well by clasping his hand and wrapping the other arm across the doctor’s waist. Bruce was flushed a deep crimson as he was practically manhandled around. He seemed to be enjoying it, nonetheless.  _

_ “I will set the Hulk on your ass, Barton if you don’t let me go immediately.”  Bruce wriggled his way out of the archer’s grip and sat himself back on the couch, where Steve was supposedly reading a book, but the smirk on his face said otherwise.  _

_ “What a party pooper. Doctor, I bet the Hulk is more fun than you. Come on, guys I love this song!” Clint beckoned towards Thor, who had the widest smile on the universe plastered all over his face. The God boomed his delight to join in on the fun and even Steve looked up with wide eyes as Clint led Thor into his little makeshift dance floor.  _

_ “Keep annoying me and you’ll find out just how fun the Hulk really is.” Bruce mock glared over his glasses and picked up a science magazine despite his obvious amusement. _

_ “Steve, put the book down and have some fun. Bet you didn’t have music this good in the ‘40s.” Natasha stepped out of her cold cocoon and broke down her walls just this once to pull the super soldier to his feet and force him to step in sync with her despite shy protests. They shimmied on their feet and Natasha twirled in Steve’s arms before strutting towards the camera, lip syncing the lyrics as the song went “Sweet, Sugar, Candyman.”  _

_ She stole the camera and the picture shook and went out of focus violently. The scene cleared and Natasha’s hand was seen pushing Tony towards the Captain. Clint and Thor egged them on and clapped loudly while Bruce simply shook his head.  _

_ Although the genius stumbled at first, he quickly regained control of his body. With a grace that no one thought he had, he snatched Steve’s hand and spun into his arms. The camera zoomed in on Cap’s expression of pure shock. As Tony rested one hand on Steve’s waist while the other slung around the man’s neck, Steve instantly did the same thing. The pair moved together messily to the classy beat and Tony, with a surprisingly rich voice, sang along to the dirty lyrics. Cap wasn’t blushing as everyone expected him to be, but he was laughing and sweating along with the genius and he played along, even when Tony pulled away so that they could extend their arms while their hands were still clutched together. They performed the Charleston footsteps while moving their arms forward and back. _

_ “He’s a sweet-talkin’ sugar coated candyman. Sweet-talkin’ sugar coated candyman.” Everyone sang along with Tony--even Natasha--and Bruce clapped along politely as Steve took it upon himself to spin Tony and dip him down before pulling him back up again, prompting whoops from Clint and booming laughter from Thor.  _

_ The camera zoomed in on Tony’s luminous face as he beamed and went a little wide eyed. But he kept singing along and shuffling his feet in time with Steve’s as well as the rhythm of the music.  _

_ When the long, stretched out note came at the end, Tony was the only one left who was singing. He hit the note perfectly and went on for the several seconds Christina Aguilera went on for without a single voice crack. He had his eyes closed and he raised his hands a little and stretched his body upwards for the dramatic effect.  _

_ The camera went to Bruce, who had stopped in the middle of turning a page because he was now staring at Tony with his jaw dropped open. Then it went to Clint who was mid-clap. He made eye contact with Natasha and mouthed “Oh my God.” Thor was still dancing along with the tune, a little oblivious, but his bumbling movements were adorable to watch. The camera went to Steve, who had stepped back from the genius as if he was giving him the spotlight. There was something in those baby blue eyes when he set his gaze upon Tony, who was now singing the final flourishing part of the note.  _

_ Those large, chocolate brown eyes opened wide as he finished and the remaining part of the song went unnoticed, though it still played in the background. Tony, immediately realizing that everyone was staring at him,  _ **_blushed_ ** _ before giving a bow.  _

_ “Oh no.” He groaned and covered his face with his hands as the room erupted in laughter and cheers.  _

_ Natasha’s voice, since she was the camerawoman, was loud and clear as she whispered a little “ooh la la” when Tony buried his already covered face in Steve’s chest.  _

_ The Captain was taken aback at first, but then he relaxed and pulled the genius closer before nuzzling his face in Tony’s hair.  _

_ “Get a rooooomm.” Barton groaned, pushing at the couple. “Why haven’t you guys kissed yet? I’m about to lose a bet with Little Miss Widow over there if you guys don’t start banging in two days.”  _

_ Steve flushed pink so hard and Tony lifted his head to say, “Fuck off, Hawk-ass. Go build a nest or something. And as for your bet--mmpf!”  _

_ The genius’ words were swallowed by Steve, who had quickly lifted the man’s chin and pressed his lips onto them wordlessly. Tony went wide eyed and when Steve let go, the genius sputtered a little. “What?” Steve shrugged. “Can’t have Barton losing a bet now, can we? I love you Nat, but I’m rooting for bird brain over here at the moment.”  _

_ The camera caught the redhead assassin stifling a laugh when all Tony could manage was a “Wh… what?!”  _

_ This time, it was Clint who mimicked Christina Aguilera, shouting, “He got those lips like sugar cane,” before pushing the soldier’s and the genius’ heads back together. This time, Tony leaned into the kiss and made it deeper.  _

_ Bruce was caught simply nodding, as if he was satisfied with an answer he had gotten.  _

_ “We must celebrate this joining of our cherished teammates!” Thor boomed before swigging the entire bottle of vodka double wine and smashing it onto the floor. “Another!”  _

_ Tony broke away from the kiss, leaving Steve to press his lips on the genius’ cheek. “Thor! Those are expensive! Don’t drink all of it!”  _

_ “Shut up, you.” Steve chuckled before turning Tony’s chin and claiming him again.  _

_ Clint fished out another bottle and poured everyone a glass and ordered JARVIS to play the song again. The recording ended with Natasha setting the camera down on the table and returning to the dancefloor where the others were waiting for her.  _

* * *

It hurt to watch. 

Especially because it was so quiet now. The music had long since faded away. 

And Tony was no longer dancing or singing. 

Steve closed the laptop and looked out the window. The sun was coming up now. The sky was slowly lightening from its darkened state but it only made him mad because why did he get to see the sunrise and Tony not get to see anything but his closed eyelids? How the hell was that fair? Why wasn’t Tony here and he was? What was so damn special about  _ him  _ that he wasn’t in a coma or he wasn’t depressed or he hadn’t felt so alone that he had decided that his life wasn’t worth anything anymore? 

Why had  _ he _ been so lucky and Tony had been left in the dust? 

Steve got up slowly and strolled up to the shelves which were attached to the wall. There were pictures there. Of the team, of him in the forties, of him and Peggy and Howard, of him and Bucky. None with him and Tony. He had probably had those pictures removed when he had remodeled the place. There were books there too. Some were worn out while others were newer. There were some ornaments and souvenirs from places where they had gone on missions. All of these things were placed on the shelf but they were so artificial because who the hell cared about the fucking snow globe from Germany when Tony was dying and who the hell cared that he knew Peggy because now he knew she would just be disappointed in him anyway and who the hell cared that he knew Bucky… 

Actually he did care. A lot. Maybe more than was healthy. 

Maybe that was what was going to kill him in the end. 

Maybe that was what was killing Tony. 

He swiped everything off the shelves. He relished in the sound of the glass shattering and the clattering and the clanking. He broke the wood by punching straight through it and then he threw that against the walls too. 

There were holes left on the drywall now from where the shelves had been ripped away. He jabbed his fist again and again and again into those holes until the sky blue became stained with red and his knuckles were torn. 

There was a distinct screeching sound in the back of his ears and he didn’t know where it was coming from. His blood was roaring rapids and his adrenaline was a drug so he didn’t realize-- he didn’t realize that the screeching was his own bellowing screams. 

“Steve!” White noise was all he heard. His heartbeat was amplified and he wondered if, despite the serum, he was having a heart attack. He wondered if he was going to die and whether or not that would be a good thing because then at least Tony wouldn’t have to leave the Earth alone and sad thinking that he wasn’t loved. He wasn’t going to wake up anyway so what was the fucking point anymore? “ _ Steve!”  _

_ What was the fucking point anymore?  _

“STEVE!” 

He whipped around and his hands were trembling and coated with blood. He didn’t realize that his cheeks were tear-stained until he saw the drops on his shirt and he felt his best friend, his brother-- _ Bucky _ \--throttling him violently. 

The super soldier studied the metal armed man and looked deep into those blue, blue eyes he had known from childhood. He looked into those eyes which he had missed for 80 years while they had haunted him because he couldn’t hold onto his hand on that damn train and maybe if he had none of what had happened would have happened. 

Maybe they wouldn’t be where they were now. 

So he looked into the eyes of the man he never had the strength to give up on, the man he would always fight for even when others got in the way, and he said “Get out.” 

“Stevie, you’re hurt. Okay? You need help, let me call someone. Let me wrap these up, you’re bleeding.” 

“Get out.” His breath hitched violently and he sank to the floor and that metal arm had never felt so cold but it felt cold now. It felt like frost. “ _ GET OUT! GET OUT! _ ” 

And he couldn’t stop sobbing now, he couldn’t fucking stop crying. He was pissed off and exhausted and there was so much right now,  _ so much  _ that he  _ missed _ from the past he had with his team and he might never get to see Tony’s brown eyes anymore and he still keeps asking himself  _ was it worth it? Was any of it worth a damn?  _

“ _ He’s not waking up, Bucky. He’s not going to wake up.”  _

Bucky didn’t say anything. Instead, they rocked together on the floor with the broken glass and the forgotten memories and Steve grieved for everything he lost. 

Because despite how much he had gained, despite the fact that he had chosen Bucky and had stuck by him all the way past Siberia… 

Tony was still in a coma. 

And he might never wake up. 

* * *

The USB was really small. It’s weight was practically negligible. Yet, it sank heavy in his pocket while he walked around the trail surrounding the Compound. 

He was carrying his laptop around everywhere now. The USB stayed with him as well, but he never left it connected. It always seemed so invasive, like he was delving into a part of Tony’s life the genius hadn’t wanted to share. Except… the first video had included a time without animosity. A time they shared together, the entire team. Including Bruce. 

But Bruce was God knew where. 

He thought about how close Tony had been to the Doctor. He wondered if Bruce knew what had happened to the man he once called friend, if he would come back to visit if he did. Would he even want to come back if he found out what they had all done to each other? Would he look at Tony and be reminded of himself? 

Maybe it was better if he didn’t come back. Wherever he was, it was better to stay oblivious. He didn’t have to come back to whatever this was. This terrible form of ‘in between’ they were all balancing on. This stupid gray area they were still drowning in all while pretending that they all knew how to swim. Bruce didn’t need that. 

That night he had slept restlessly. He had dreamt that he was back in the Potomac, only, he was awake this time. He had looked down to find himself utterly naked. Steve hadn’t been Captain America or an Avenger or a war criminal in that dream. Not even a soldier. He had been simply Steve, a man out of time. He had glanced about and his vision had been so clear and so soothing. The sun rays had rippled and glistened beneath the crystal blue water as he floated aimlessly. Listlessly. Without a purpose or a promise or a care in the world. 

And Tony had floated towards him. No, he had swam. A tiny speck in the distance had become the genius’ lean form, his dark brown hair, and his mesmerizing eyes. He had swam gracefully, angelically almost, wearing all white and blinking at him slowly. The tiniest of smiles in which his lips pointed upwards at the ends seemed to Steve the most beautiful thing on Earth. Tony looked younger, sweeter, and more innocent. The harsh lines and shadows of the present had faded away. 

Steve had opened his mouth to speak, maybe to say ‘Why are we here?’ or maybe, ‘You look beautiful.’ Tony had shushed him with a firm finger against his lips. He had leaned in and for a split second, Steve had thought they would kiss. But Tony had simply bumped their foreheads together while wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist. Steve had rested his own hands on Tony’s smaller frame and had pulled him closer. Their legs had tangled together and Steve could swear that the golden, shimmering light from the sun above the surface had focused on solely them in that precise moment. 

They had simply been. The purest form they had ever taken was in a dream. The Potomac shrouding them had felt warm as they had drifted, going nowhere but everywhere all at once. 

A current--or had it been some phantom force?--had carried them upwards. The sun rays had chased them in that one moment of absolute stillness within their hearts. The one time where they had nothing to say to each other, no hurtful words left to expel nor any tears left to shed. Steve hadn’t wanted to let go of that complete feeling. He hadn’t wanted to let go of Tony. 

So when he felt Tony pushing him away, he had opened his eyes and pleaded with the man who seemed to be fading away or shrinking. At first, he had thought that Tony had been leaving, but then, Steve had looked up. 

No. He had been the one to float upwards, back towards the surface, while Tony had simply stared from the same spot, the form of a goodbye shaping his lips. 

Steve had tried to resist, but his body was restrained with invisible shackles and before long, he had broke the surface. He had returned to reality, where the destruction of the helicarriers had been surrounding him and the weight of his burdens had come tumbling upon him once more. He had tried to go under, but every time he did, the water had only seemed muddied and dark. He hadn’t been able to see a thing. 

Tony was gone.

And in a way--in a way, Steve had felt as if a part of him was gone too. 

That morning, when he had woken up, he had ran to the medical ward with nothing but his boxers on and fear embedded deep within his heart. 

But Tony was still there, hooked onto several machines which still forced him to hang onto life as he slept… and slept… and slept. Colonel Rhodes had been with him in his wheelchair. Maybe he had been too tired to put the braces on that morning. 

Steve had watched as the Colonel had held onto Tony’s hand with an iron grip, as if he too was afraid of breaking the surface without him. A single tear had escaped from his eye and when the Colonel had closed them, a constant stream had poured out. Steve had turned away and gone back to his room. He ignored the stares and the cocked heads which followed him as he walked through the halls completely shirtless. 

He hadn’t cared. It was watching Tony alive, still tugging on that thread between life and death, which had calmed him. 

Yet, even now, as he stood before the tiny pond Tony loved so much--the one which fell right on the path of the trail which surrounded the Compound--he still thought about how Tony had mouthed ‘goodbye’ so easily. How he had disappeared, as if his very being had misted away and joined the shimmering lights which had rippled in the water. 

Sam was sitting in the grass by the edge of the pond. He was gazing outwards, seeing nothing. The days had gotten chillier and autumn was settling in, so the sky was a pale gray and the water simply reflected that stagnant, monotonous boredom. Despite the serum, Steve shivered a little at the slight breeze cutting through the air and he wished he had worn a windbreaker like the one Sam had wrapped around his shoulders. 

They didn’t exchange any words when Steve sat down beside him. Instead, the Air Force veteran simply lowered his eyes and stared at his feet. There was a visible lump in his throat and he seemed to curl in on himself more. 

“It’s cold today.” He muttered, then massaged his temple with his fingers. Steve knew that Sam was thinking too hard about something. The man always got like this: too silent and wistful whenever something was on his mind. 

“Yeah.” Steve breathed, his answer floating away into oblivion. “The leaves are changing color too.” He didn’t say  _ ‘Look at the red and gold. He’s always around isn’t he? Even in the damn leaves.”  _

They sat in silence for a bit and Steve watched as the water in the pond swayed and the little weeds bent in the direction of the chilly breeze. He huffed into his palms to warm them up before pressing them on his face. 

Sam was still in the same position. His face was set in an emotion Steve couldn’t place. He wondered if it was anger or pity or sadness, but it didn’t seem like it. In fact, Steve knew it wasn’t. That was because he recognized that same question laced in Sam’s frown. It was the same question he saw in the mirror everyday.  _ Why?  _

“I hate him, you know?” Steve pulled at the grass and ripped them out a little too viciously. He sprinkled the torn shreds back onto the bald spot of the ground. “I hate him for not even… for not even  _ explaining.  _ I hate him for being the stubborn ass that he is even when he’s in a coma. No matter how much we beg, he’s not going to wake up. He’s selfish like that. He’s always been selfish like that.” Though his voice was quiet and calm, his words were shaky, tearful, and rough. He wished it was easier to fake it or hide it or to pretend that none of what he was feeling existed at all. But that was who he was before. It was harder now. He wasn’t the same. 

See, that was the thing now. There was a Steve Rogers before Tony went into a coma and then there was a Steve Rogers after. Two different people with two different personalities. It was the ‘after’ version of him who was angrier, more emotional. More… disassociated. 

“Steve…” Sam was looking up at him now with a strange sort of disbelief in his eyes. It was as if he couldn’t recognize him, like he was searching for the man that had long since died ever since Tony had been found. Hell, that man died in Siberia. 

Typical. 

“But I love him. So much that it physically  _ hurts  _ whenever I think about him. I love him with a passion that is  _ going to kill me  _ because I know--” That’s when his voice broke and those shameful tears began spilling out. “I know that despite  _ everything _ that has happened between us, it would  _ destroy _ me to see him gone. It would--” He sobbed. He thought he sounded pathetic. “It would completely tear me apart. And that asshole… he  _ knew  _ this. He knew what it would do to me if he was ever hurt and what did he do?” He scoffed scornfully. “He tried to die. All by himself in a goddamn hotel room in fucking New Jersey of all places.” 

The silence shrouded them after Steve’s outburst. It wasn’t awkward or tense. But it held the same mutual confusion, the same need to understand. To try to help. But there was only so much a person could do when the person they are trying to help… was practically gone. 

“You know, normally I would be all up for talking and discussing about this.” A pause. “Steve?” 

The soldier looked up from where he was fiddling with more shredded grass. “Hmm?”

“I  _ would _ talk to you about this. Not just with you, but with everyone. I do these things, remember? With the veterans who deal with PTSD and other mental illnesses. And I would gladly let you rant in front of my face all day about--about  _ this _ and I would listen, but…” 

“But what, Sam?” He hadn’t meant for his tone to be so harsh. “We’re all hurting from this. You are, I am, Natasha is, Bucky is, Colonel Rhodes is, Pepper is, hell, even Wanda is.” 

“I  _ know that  _ Steve. I know. But this is the first time--” He reached up to massage the sides of his head. When he looked up again, his cheeks were wet. Steve was so tired of everyone around him crying. “This is the first time I knew that something like this was going to happen and I did absolutely nothing to stop it.” 

Steve froze. A strange sort of chill went up and down his spine and he couldn’t place it. “You knew this was going to happen?” His words were slow and poisoned and he felt his face go red and hot with a pain and an anger bred from the depths of hell. 

“We all knew this was going to happen, Steve. We just ignored it. We were so caught up with our own grudges and our own petty shit and  _ we _ made him feel like… we saw the worst in him. Even when he saw the best in us. Always. No matter how much he had tried to help and how hard he had tried to fix whatever the fuck we are now because it sure as hell ain’t a team. What type of team makes one of their own feel so--so degraded? So much that he…” The boiling in Steve’s veins simmered down when he saw his friend, always so happy and cheerful and ready to help, be reduced to an emptiness, a feeling of failure, that he could not escape. “I know better, Steve. We did this to him.” 

Steve cracked and the rage became a flood which then cascaded from his already red rimmed eyes. “I tried to be there for him and he pushed me away.” 

Sam was shaking his head, a single tear slipping through. 

“Sam, you know I tried. I wasn’t enough for him. I tried so hard.” His words tumbled out on top of each other and he felt his lungs expanding and shrinking in his chest, so much so that it began to hurt. “I don’t know… I thought we were going to fix things. We were doing better. We made love, we hugged, we kissed, we talked, we cried, we laughed, we smiled. Sam, we went to therapy together for  _ months  _ before he even let me touch him. We were  _ happy. _ What happened, Sam? What did I do wrong? How did this-- _ why?” _

“Maybe you were happy, Steve.” The veteran’s tone was surprisingly calm despite the odds. Yet there was a dejected, scornful undertone to it which Steve couldn’t figure out whether it was directed towards him or towards his own self. “And why wouldn’t you be? You were able to come home with your best friend in tow and the rest of the team as well. Tony had no one for the longest time. When we came back… don’t tell me you didn’t notice the dirty looks Clint would give him or the sharp insults he would throw. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice Wanda and him giving Tony looks of disgust every time he walked into a room or scoffed whenever Tony opened his mouth to speak. Don’t tell me he didn’t flinch every time Bucky made his presence. Don’t tell me he didn’t flinch every time he saw  _ you _ .” Steve held his breath before exhaling long and slow. He returned to torturing the grass. 

“He grew smaller and smaller every day, Steve. Every damn day. You two seemed happy, sure, but we all still remember that explosive argument you two had after a couple months out of therapy. We were all there, man. It was loud and humiliating and honestly… _heartbreaking_. Because I found some things out that day, Steve. Things you hadn’t told me. Things you hadn’t told any of us. My perception of you changed that day.” Sam grew quieter and Steve only hunched in on himself, shame spreading through his body like a crimson rush. “And when he cried like that, when he broke like that, it hurt to watch. And I knew right then--” he raised a finger before clenching it into a tight fist while his face contorted and his voice cracked, “that whatever has happened now… it was _going_ _to_ happen. I--I knew and yet I ignored--” Steve was ripping the grass to shreds, picking at them in his large hands and giving those shreds his pain. His exhaustion. “Because I couldn’t get over _myself_. So now he’s lying in a hospital bed, in a coma.” Sam sighed and then finally caught sight of the laptop Steve had brought along with him. He stared at it for a second before looking back up at Steve. The look in those dark eyes--that was the look of a man who was haunted. Haunted by his own mistakes. By the past, present, and future. “None of us got over ourselves, Steve. Not a single one.” 

Steve wished he could go back to that dream. To those few seconds he had had with Tony, who was wearing the colors of an angel, who was swimming towards him, and then was floating with him. Holding him. Loving him. Pure, unconditional love. 

He wished. Oh, how much he wished. 

“There was a flash drive in his lab.” He removed the tiny, black rectangle from his pocket and presented it to the other man who didn’t even blink. “The first video was from before we met. Tony and I and everyone else, we were all dancing. Smiling. It was real. Happy. Tony… I had kissed him… for the very first time.” He uncapped the USB and stuck it into the side of his laptop. “There are four more videos left.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t want to watch them. He wouldn’t want us to--”

“Yeah, well,  _ he  _ isn’t here right now, Sam! He’s hooked onto a ventilator because he can’t breathe without help because that’s what it’s come down to: forcing him to live! And if he wanted us to not look at these, then he should be here to say no!” He raised his voice. He hadn’t meant to. “I’m sorry.” He murmured half-assedly.  He danced the cursor around and hovered over the video from 2015. It looked like a few months after Ultron had occurred. 

⚜⚜⚜⚜

Steve remembered that it was after Ultron that they had grown distant and cold. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, really. But they hadn’t shared those cute moments anymore. Steve would look at Tony and he would know that he loved him, but something… it hadn’t felt right. Before, it would have been easy to simply blink at those large, chocolate brown eyes and just  _ know.  _ There had been a sense of security, a sense of passion he had had, which he hadn’t been able to find after Ultron. In fact, the months after the Ultron debacle, they barely spoke to each other. 

No, during that period of time, all they did was have lots and lots of sex. Hot, angry sex that had felt so good. Tony would bottom every time and Steve had tried to memorize those moans and cries and whimpers of pleasure escaping from Tony’s lips. He would store every part of Tony in his head: tired, worn out, sweaty, and writhing underneath him. He would do this as he pounded Tony into the mattress roughly,  _ epicly.  _ He would feel his frustration dissolve and then he’d look back over to Tony’s face afterwards, when they weren’t in the bedroom, and he wouldn’t feel the same as how he had felt years before, when they were dancing to spunky pop songs.

It’s not that he had blamed Tony. Of course he hadn’t. And he sure as hell had never, not  _ once,  _ fallen out of love with him. 

It was just hard to get the flying city out of his head was all. 

_ Don’t compare me with Stark! He’s a sickness.  _

No. Ultron was a sickness.

A sickness Tony had created. 

He figured that was what had torn them apart so much when the Accords were brought up. 

When Bucky came back. 

After the ‘Civil War,’ however, he had felt lost without Tony. Yes, he had Bucky back. Yes, he had a large part of the team. But Tony had always filled a slot in his life separate from the rest. He never fit into a category. Tony simply was. 

So he had texted that phone over and over again to the same number which never once showed up on his caller ID.  _ Hi Tony. How are you, Tony? Are you okay, Tony? I’m sorry, Tony. Please text me back, Tony. I miss you, Tony.  _

_ I love you, Tony.  _

He checked that wretched phone day after day without receiving a single message in return. Not a call, not even a simple ‘K.’ Nothing. He had clutched it to his chest and he would keel over and kneel and cry and still… still Tony would not answer. 

T’Challa had always kept them updated with what was happening with the Accords, with the government and their status in the United States. War criminals. That was what they had been reduced to. 

The king would share the amendments with the Rogue Avengers, showing them what was going to change and what wasn’t. The new installments were still shaky, but they gave them more freedom from the UN’s overbearing power. But the bottom line was mandatory: they either signed and agreed to the new version of the Accords or they did not get to go home. 

Steve would go every bureaucratic, political meeting with Sam and Wanda. Clint had stopped caring. The archer had taken on a bitter character. He snapped at everyone now, except for Wanda, who he was always protective over.

It took several, painful months of Bucky sleeping in cryo freeze when everyone had finally agreed to the latest version of the Accords. This document was way more flexible and it did not demonize enhanced human beings, nor penalize them as harshly whenever there were excessive amounts of civilian casualties after a mission. The UN had a looser grip on them and they were allowed to override the judgement of the UN if the emergency met a certain criteria. 

T’Challa had informed them about their governmental pardons. Steve had bristled and protested at the parole-like structure of their pardon. They weren’t criminals, they were superheroes. They had saved the world more than once. How dare a bunch of old men in tight suits and sticks up their asses with corrupted agendas tell them when they could leave the Compound and how they were allowed to behave for one whole year?

Bucky was required to take part in a three year long mental health course which was going to be funded by Stark Industries. His parole-like restrictions were stricter, but he would be allowed to live in the Compound with them. Bucky had agreed hastily and eagerly and Steve had protested.  _ “Why is he being treated differently? It’s not fair to put so many restrictions on him when we don’t get the same.”  _

_ “Don’t forget, Captain.”  _ T’Challa had said.  _ “You and your friends  _ **_chose_ ** _ to break the law. These complications are a result of  _ **_your_ ** _ actions. You must take what you are offered. Mr. Stark and I have worked day and night to help you all to return to your country. As for your friend, it has been agreed upon that the mental stability of James Barnes must be fully and completely stable before he is allowed to live life as a fully free man. It is for his well-being and the safety of all civilians.”  _ Cap had clenched his fists at that and had stayed adamant. Bucky was not a villain and he sure as hell should not be treated like one. _ “He is not being treated like a villain, Captain Rogers. He is being given a chance to rehabilitate. He is being given a second chance at life. Mr. Stark insisted upon this deal. You should be grateful Barnes is not being thrown in a warded prison.”  _ The King had paused and stared at him intensely. Steve had lowered his eyes at the powerful, royal gaze. _ “It should be in your best interests that you and the Rogue Avengers do not take your freedom for granted, for if you do, then you may never have it again. There is nothing Mr. Stark, nor I, may do to help any of you.”  _

Steve had hung his head and closed his mouth at that. His pride had deflated. He sat closer to Bucky and found home in those blue eyes and that soft, small smile from Brooklyn so many years before.

Then came the video call with Tony. 

It had been hard. No, that was an understatement. It had been  _ devastating _ to sit in that conference room, as if he was just another pawn in a game of governmental chess rather than Tony’s lover. He had shriveled at the sight of those sunken eyes, once so bright and twinkling, which the billionaire had quickly covered up with tinted aviators. Tony’s lips, once full and always spread into a wide smile, had been flattened into a thin line, as if he had been restraining himself somehow. Small flecks of gray had peppered at his short sideburns and in place of the smooth canvas of his skin were wrinkles and trenches. Harsh lines and shadows. Steve had been able to tell that Tony hadn’t been sleeping nor eating much of late from the genius’ skinny frame and foggy, sluggish movements.

And then, in a low, almost robotic voice, Tony had informed them all of their living conditions at the new and improved Compound, about their families (aimed at Clint and Scott), and what they were expected to do once they returned to the United States. Mentions of press conferences and debriefings and interrogations went over Steve’s head. 

Tony hadn’t even looked at him. Not once. 

So when he had finished speaking and asked,  _ “Any questions?”  _ Steve had wanted to scream  _ Why didn’t you call or text me back, Tony?  Why can’t you sleep, Tony? How much do you eat everyday--if you do anymore--Tony? Do you still love me, Tony? Will you ever forgive me, Tony? _

But he hadn’t dared open his mouth. He had kept his lips sealed all throughout the ringing silence in the room until T’Challa had administered a formal goodbye and Tony had smiled ever so softly before the call cut. 

Steve faintly remembered the sneers from Wanda and the cutting jabs from Clint and the weak insults from Scott shortly after Tony had disappeared. He also remembered slamming his hand against the table, producing a menacing crack, and barking at them.  _ “We are going to live in his home and eat his food and wear the clothes he paid for on our backs. The least you can do is shut the hell up and keep your traps shut.”  _

And then Wanda,  _ “Of course he’s defending him.”  _

_ “Didn’t know you got so attached to your fuckbuddy, Cap. Looks like he spread his legs quite wide for you.”  _ Clint. 

It was Bucky who had restrained him and T’Challa who had restrained the archer when Steve had tried to pounce.  

⚜⚜⚜⚜

He didn’t realize his face was burrowed in Sam’s shoulder until several minutes later. “I miss him.” He whimpered. 

“I know.”

“I want him to wake up.”

“So do I.” 

“This isn’t fair.”

“Life’s not fair.” 

“He doesn’t deserve this. I love him.” 

“I know, Steve. I know.” 

They stayed like that and Steve listened to the lapping of the water and the whooshing of the grass as the breeze swept through. “Please watch it with me.” He mumbled into Sam’s shoulder after a couple of minutes. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

He felt the other man sigh and then heard him agree with a quiet “okay.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your lovely comments! I will try to respond as soon as I can!


	3. Sokovia

_ “DUM-E, you recording?” Tony asked, voice rough and laden with exhaustion. He was wearing Steve’s pajamas and he looked absolutely haggard.  _

_ The time stamp read 3:07 AM.  _

_ There was an energetic beeping in response to the genius and the man smiled a little, but it quickly fell away.  _

_ He tinkered with his watch for a couple more seconds before he put his tools down with a clatter. “Alright.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s see what this nice little toy can do.” Tony got up from his desk and DUM-E followed him to an empty space set up with targets. With a fluid and expert movement, he placed his right hand over his left wrist, where his watch was resting, and pulled the top of the watch up and over his hand to create a gauntlet. He spun towards the first target and the room echoed with the whine of the repulsor as he obliterated each and every board. He laughed as the dust settled and looked back over at DUM-E. “Nice, right?”  _

_ The gauntlet coiled back into the watch and Tony inhaled deeply and sat down right in the middle of the floor while he exhaled. He beckoned DUM-E closer with one finger before pulling his knees up to his chest. “Good boy.” He whispered. The camera shuddered as he patted the top of the robot’s head. Tony sighed again and closed his eyes for a second. “I can’t sleep.” He slapped his hands against his face and dragged them down. He opened his eyes wide as he peeped through the slits between his fingers. “It’s stupid, isn’t it? Genius, billionaire, playboy, whatever-the-fuck hotshot son of a bitch who has everything can’t even close his eyes for a few seconds.” He sniffed and DUM-E beeped at him. “Nightmares.” He mumbled. “The fucking hole in the sky. Pepper falling into the fire. The flying fucking city in Europe.” Tony raised his voice at the end and threw something, maybe it was a hammer, across the room. Something shattered. Tony clenched his jaw and grit his teeth as tears welled in his eyes. “I built it right here. On this floor. With Bruce. Now Bruce is gone and JARVIS is dead and we have a witch who rapes minds moving in at the Compound. Jesus, it’s not like I invited Loki to live with us after he fucked with Clint’s head but the crazy bitch who was basically a Nazi till two weeks ago? Sure, let’s bring her in why don’t we? I mean, sure, she only showed all of my friends cold and dead in front of me while the Chitauri came back through the wormhole bringing all of their magic fuckery with them in Strucker’s lab but that’s completely fine, isn’t it?” He paused and picked at a stray thread from Steve’s SHIELD sweatshirt. “Steve doesn’t love me anymore.” He scoffed before burying his face in his knees. “This is my life.” He groaned and slammed his fist against the tile floor. When he raised his head again, his cheeks were wet. “It’s my fault. I fucked up with Ultron, DUM-E. I killed a lot of people.” His voice grew smaller. “Again.”  _

_ He shook his head over and over again and the bot beeped sadly. The camera bobbed up and down as DUM-E nudged at his creator in an attempt to comfort him. He just stared at the wall blankly, a few stray tears rolling down his cheeks and he just looked so empty. So gray. It was like his soul, his very being, had just up and left his body.  _

_ “J, could you… Fuck.” He clenched his fists and his jaw once more as he turned his head away from the camera. “FRIDAY, could you get the suit ready? Set the flight path to any orphanage in Sokovia.”  _

_ The bot beeped more rapidly and even more sadly at the mention of his creator leaving him. Tony sighed and brushed a hand through his hair. “I can’t bring you along, bud. But how about this? I’ll record it with the suit so that you could see it when I get back, okay?” He broke into a small smile and patted the bot again. “Good boy.”  _

_ The video cut for one second and when the picture reappeared, the setting had changed. Tony was still dressed in Steve’s sweatpants and sweatshirt, but this time, he was in an entirely different country.  _

_ He was in Europe, in a country his own creation had practically destroyed.  _

_ The sound of crying babies filled the room and there was Tony, flitting from bed to bed, trying to comfort each and every one of them. This went on for a couple of minutes before he stopped before one single bed, in front of a baby that had not stopped crying, and tenderly, lovingly, picked it up. “I know, baby, I know.” His voice trembled as he held the child to his chest and rocked it. “I’m the reason you don’t have a home.” Paired with the trembling was a tearful undertone which simply made his words crackle. “Or a family. And I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”  _

_ The bundle still shrieked in his face and Tony simply held the baby tighter and kissed its forehead. He wiped the child’s tears with his thumbs and whispered and cooed to it, telling it sweet nothings and offering it broken, but warm smiles.  _

_ Then he started singing in soft and fluent Italian. The baby calmed and listened to Tony’s voice and Tony simply swayed in place. As the child fell asleep, the singing turned to a low humming and then there was complete silence. Tony set the baby back into its bed gingerly before ordering FRIDAY to cut several checks of several millions of dollars to donate to the orphanages in Sokovia anonymously.  _

_ He ended up holding every single baby in that room. He promised them better lives, a home, a family. He held their tiny hands, kissed their tiny foreheads, and hugged their tiny bodies.  _

_ At some point, FRIDAY had informed Tony of an incoming call from Steve. He hesitated before telling the AI to answer.  _

_ “Tony, where are you?” Steve’s voice, at a low volume due to the children, sounded as if he just woke up. “I checked the lab and you’re nowhere in the building.”  _

_ “I’m fine, Steve.” He sounded absolutely normal, as if he wasn’t going through emotional turmoil. “Pepper just dragged me out to an early morning meeting. I’ll be back by this afternoon, I promise.”  _

_ “Okay.” A pause. “I’ll miss you.”  _

_ Tony grinned through his weariness. “I’ll be back soon, Steve.” The line still lingered and his lover stayed quiet. “I love you.” Tony said softly.  _

_ There was the tiniest bit of hesitation. Almost indetectable. It was easy to miss and one had to strain their hearing to truly notice it. But because Tony’s face fell so quickly, it was obvious that he  _ had  _ noticed it. Instantly.  _

_ “I love you too, baby.” Steve said finally. Tony blinked at the floor and seemed to curl in on himself before the call ended. He sighed. _

* * *

The video ended. 

Steve was aware that Sam was looking--no-- _ gawking  _ at him. But Steve looked straight ahead at his empty expression in the reflection of the computer screen. He closed the laptop gently and looked up at the blinding light of the sun peeking through the murky clouds as the first spraying drizzles of rain misted over his face. 

Tony had never told him his worst fear. He had never told him what Wanda had shown him so long ago. 

_ I don’t know what she showed you. I just know it made you do something stupid.  _

The rain began to pelt down and Steve forced himself to keep his eyes open and not flinch at the attacking raindrops. 

Sam was the one who stuffed the laptop beneath his windbreaker to protect it with the USB still stuck in it. Steve wanted to scream at him to give it back. He wanted to throttle the other man because who the hell did he think he was, just carrying Tony’s life away like that? Just keeping it in the computer as if it wasn’t  _ precious _ ?

But Steve didn’t yell any of these things. He was too numb, too… lost. Tony’s hand was too cold and too far away nowadays. He was too afraid to touch it for comfort. 

_ Steve doesn’t love me anymore.  _

Sam led him back into the Compound. He set him down on the couch with the others and then he walked away without saying a single word. 

Wanda was sitting on the loveseat with her delicate hand curled around a mug. She was laughing and talking to Vision as the British android attempted to make a joke. When she turned towards him, noticing that he was wet from the rain and staring at her wide eyed, her dark,  _ concerned  _ gaze met his own. Steve clenched his fists and fought off the rising nausea. 

“How could you?” His question was more of a whimper and still she stared, her brows furrowed innocently. 

Then her eyes flared crimson and her face grew grave. She lowered her gaze down to her lap and the color faded from her eyes. Steve felt the intrusion. He felt her walk in and out, as if she were taking a glance at the damage before closing the door behind her. 

“Don’t touch my mind like that. Don’t touch me or the people I love ever again.” He growled as he sprang to his feet and then it was Clint who stood in his path. He looked over the archer’s shoulder, ignoring his warnings and threats. “Did you ever even regret it?” He hissed. “After he gave you a home and a family at his fucking  _ expense,  _ did you ever feel guilty? Did you feel the least bit of remorse for triggering the Hulk and forcing him to run away? For triggering  _ all of us  _ by  _ raping  _ our minds?” 

“Cap, you need to calm down--” But Steve simply gripped the archer by his shoulders, lifted him up, and placed him to his side so that he could pass. 

“His head wasn’t a _toy,_ Wanda!” He caught the past tense as soon as it left his mouth and he swore under his breath. Tony was still alive. He was alive. “Did you feel the least bit remorseful at any point in your life? Or was it so _offensive_ to you that he made you stay home after the shit show at Lagos because people _wanted_ _your_ _head,_ that you couldn’t _possibly_ forgive him? That ol’ Farmer Clint Mc-Barton had to clamber out of his perfect retirement, _leave his family behind,_ for _you_? All so you could dump a garage full of cars on Tony’s head, all of which he ended up paying for in the end?” His yelling had turn strained and now his voice was wobbly and deeper, yet the intensity remained as he stalked up to her and knelt before her small form, still curled up on the couch Tony may never sit on again. “He hated himself so much, Wanda. He always has. And whatever progress he had made had come crashing down the _second_ you showed him your tomfuckery visions and made him self destruct from _fear_. He hated himself so much that at the end, he swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills in a rundown hotel off of Interstate Ass in New Jersey because he thought that he wasn’t loved.” He grit his teeth, but the woman stayed silent. She stared at her hands. Through clenched teeth, he spat the next few words with poison laced in every syllable. “I bet you enjoyed feeling him suffer every goddamn day, of knowing that he wanted to die and not doing or saying a single thing about it. I bet you wanted him to die. I bet you _laughed_ when you heard that we found him half de--” He sobbed.

And she shook her head frantically. “No.” She pleaded and looked once to Vision and then to Clint, but no one came her way. “I never wanted that. I never wanted him dead.” 

“ _ But you did.  _ You  _ did.  _ I was just too stupid to see it. Now I know. I know who you are. And I know that you feel nothing because you’re  _ cold _ . You’re  _ heartless _ . You don’t even feel  _ guilty _ . You don’t even regret it and you never will because you still told him mean things, even after he brought you back and let you stay in his home, you said so many mean,  _ terrible  _ things and it made him think he was worthless. So don’t  _ bullshit _ me. Don’t even pretend to act like you’re sorry--”

“ _ His _ fear, his worst fear, scared me the most.” She spoke in a small voice, as if her fervor had been sapped. As if Steve’s anger, his grief, had sucked her energy from her. “There has never been a day I do not think about it, Steve. Not a single day goes by that I do not shudder because of what I saw that day.” Steve’s chest heaved, but his words were shriveled up and dead. “His worst fear was losing you. Your worst fear was losing someone else.” Her eyes flicked towards Bucky. “I said things, yes. But with all due respect, maybe it was what  _ you  _ did that made him feel the most worthless in the end.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “Don’t you dare throw his words back in my face.” He punctuated each word with a scary calm.

He walked away. 

* * *

There was a man wearing a cap and tinted sunglasses and dressed in ratty jeans, a plaid shirt, and a light jacket. He was sitting at Tony’s bedside and speaking in a low voice to his still form. It was the middle of the night. Steve couldn’t sleep. Apparently, neither could this man.  

“Motherfucker.” Steve heard as he slipped into the room. “You’re a bastard. A fucking bastard, Stark. There’s a reason I contacted  _ you  _ about the nuke that day, Tony. Because I knew you would pull through like the son of a bitch you are. Why’d you stop fighting?” There was a silence where the man took Tony’s hand and Steve leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “I know you’re there.” The man said as he shifted his body slightly to look at the Captain. “How did it feel to be an exile, Captain Rogers? Did the good King treat you right over in Wakanda?” 

Steve grinned softly, but his smile fell fast. “It’s nice to see you, Nick.” 

They stayed in silence. Steve watched as the former Director of SHIELD stroked a thumb over Tony’s knuckles. “Agent Romanoff contacted me.” Fury began after a while. “It’s been two weeks, huh?” 

“Yeah.” Steve’s response sounded strangled. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight on his feet. 

Fury exhaled. Long and drawn out. Steve focused on the ticking of the clock and the beeping of the machines which he hated so much. “How did this happen, Steve?” The man asked finally in a quiet voice. 

“I don’t know.” 

It began with Fury’s voice. That much he was sure of. He knew it was Nick who was speaking when he said “That’s bullshit.” But he began to question his sanity the second that voice morphed into one he hadn’t heard for two weeks. “And you know it.” 

Steve reared back several steps as if he was struck. He closed his eyes and leveled his breathing as Nick kept squinting at him, as if he was trying to find something beneath the surface. As if Steve was hiding something. 

“I don’t, actually.” He tried again, but his throat was constricted. He tried not to pay attention to the man standing at the foot of the hospital bed, staring down at the sleeping form in it with a malicious, chocolate brown stare. He tried to pretend that he didn’t notice how that man was cackling at him, at the body in the bed, at Nick. 

_ “You all make me sick.”  _ The man said and Steve kept looking straight. Ignoring and barreling through because he wasn’t real. This Tony wasn’t real. He was made of hate, this Tony. This was not the man he loved. Not real. Not real.  _ “Especially him.”  _ Steve held his breath as the man pointed at Tony in the bed, the  _ real  _ Tony. 

_ Get out of my head.  _ He recited.  _ You’re not real. You’re made of lies, not love. Only lies.  _

The being moved closer and Fury was saying something, but Steve only saw his mouth move.  _ “No, Steve.”  _ The fake Tony hissed in his ear.  _ “I’m made of the lies you told me when I was awake.”  _

Steve inhaled sharply and turned his head to the side to meet the being’s eyes. 

There was nothing there. 

“Steve?” Oh right. Fury was still there. 

“I--I…” He couldn’t speak. His throat was dry. 

Fury walked up to him slowly and looked him over once. Then twice. Steve thought he must have looked haunted. The man rested his hands on Steve’s shoulders and pulled him in for a light hug. 

Steve looked up over Fury’s shoulder. The being was there, staring at the beeping machines. He stood next to Tony’s frail form and ran a hand up his cold arm. That hand trailed upwards… up, up, up. All the way to the plug on the ventilator. The being pulled it out. 

“NO!” The super soldier jumped out of Nick’s grip and rushed towards the machine. It was still pumping air. The being was gone. Steve’s breath caught as he crumpled to his knees. “He won’t get out of my head!” He felt Fury place a firm hand on his shoulder. “I’m going crazy.” He whimpered. 

Fury had to leave once the sun began to come up. Steve followed him out the door. 

He locked himself in his room. He didn’t come out that morning. Not even when Bucky begged him to. 

And the being would stand in the corner of his room and he would  _ cackle  _ at him. Minute after minute, hour after hour. 

It turned out that covering his ears and squeezing his eyes shut did nothing to block out the evil. 

Typical.    __

 

 


	4. You Created Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: This argument is heavily inspired by the dialogue in American Horror Story Season 1 Episode 1
> 
> Stuff in Italics is a flashback in this chapter. I didn't write this chapter to bash on characters, necessarily, I wrote it to portray a confrontation between Steve and Tony. So please, if some points of their arguments do not make sense, it is because it is purposefully written that way to create a sense of irrational anger.
> 
> Also, characters are a bit OOC
> 
> Trigger Warning: This has some dub-con. It's not that bad, but please do pay heed if you are triggered by it.

The ‘explosive argument’ had happened about seven months after the move back to the Compound.

⚜⚜⚜⚜

_Steve and Tony had gone to therapy together for six months in an effort to try and scramble the shattered pieces of what they used to be. They had stumbled around each other ever since Steve had returned and he had felt as if they were stepping on eggshells around each other. Tony had kept his head down and his mouth shut and it had been disconcerting. The man had once been so exuberant, so lively, so confident, and brash. He would envelope the room with his personality and provide an atmosphere that was bold and flashy. He had been the type of man to walk into a room and make every head turn his way._

_Steve hadn’t been able to find that same man in the shell he had returned home to. This Tony stayed quiet and barely spoke. He shied away at Steve’s touch. He didn’t even look at him. There was a hollowness carved into Tony’s eyes and it had killed the super soldier to believe that it had been created by his shield._

_He knew he had hurt him. He knew he had messed up to a point where there was most likely no return._

_The first time they spoke to each other after coming home was when Steve had accidentally bumped into Tony on the way back from his jog. Tony had looked haggard, as if he hadn’t slept for years. They had looked at each other and Steve had seen the empty stare of nothingness Tony was wearing. In place of the creamy chocolate was the color of dirt and in place of the sparkle was a dull, glassy sheen. “Tony…” He had said, smiling gently at the man who seemed to shrink in on himself. “How are you?”_

_“Good.” He had met his gaze for a second before truly taking a second to study his face. “You grew a beard.” He had said a little wistfully while stepping closer and cupping his hand on Steve’s jaw gently. Tony had felt the coarse hair slowly and Steve had focused on the way their breaths mingled after so long of missing Tony’s presence._

_“You just now noticed?” Steve had teased, but Tony had simply ignored it._

_“It looks good.” The genius had whispered and lowered himself back down flat on his feet. Steve hadn’t even noticed that Tony had gotten up on his tippy toes until the warmth of his body had disappeared. “You look good, Spangles.”_

_And there it was again. That quirky smile, a little crooked now, but that was okay. That familiar nickname off the lips he missed so much. So before Tony had been able to nod quickly and walk away, Steve had covered the space between them and then they had kissed. Slow and tender and sweet._

_He had prayed that the words which were too hard to say could somehow be given to Tony like this. “I still love you.”_

_Tony had pushed him away but Steve had held on for as long as possible. He had let himself melt into Tony’s taste, but the genius had turned his face. “I--I can’t.” He had gasped. “I can’t do this. Not after…”_

_Steve finished the sentence in his head._ Not after Siberia.

_But Steve had known that he was selfish. That he couldn’t let go of the man he still loved. So he had pleaded with him. “Can we try to fix this, Tony? Do you think we can try? We can go to therapy together. We can take as much time as we need. Please, Tony.”_

_Tony hadn’t said anything. There had only been a deep sort of pain etched into the crevices of his face as he had backed away cautiously. He had spun around and shuffled away hastily, yet Steve had still managed to catch the violent heaving of the smaller man’s chest before he had left. Steve had stood there, heartbroken and wondering if things would ever get better._

_The next day, FRIDAY, in a cold and clipping voice--if that was even possible for an AI--said that ‘Boss’ had set up an appointment for the both of them with a Dr. Harmon at 6 PM._

_From that day, it had become a thing. Every Monday at six, Steve and Tony would meet the therapist, who had talked them through how to deal with their dynamic and open up with each other. They often discussed the ‘how’ part of their relationship. ‘How are you going to learn to trust each other again? How are you going to tear down walls? How are you going to deal with your anxiety?’_

_It had always been ‘we’ and ‘us’ until talk of anxiety came up and then it just became ‘Tony.’ Sure, Steve still had nightmares. He had days where he couldn’t sleep either. But he had developed ways to cope through beating the shit out of punching bags. Even if anxiety kept him up, he would always manage himself so that he could come back to reality. And if that didn’t work, Bucky had always been there. Or Sam. Or Natasha._ Someone.

_Steve doubted Tony had that. Just someone._

_The first day of therapy they had sat apart from each other on different ends of the couch and Tony had said almost close to nothing except for a couple of nods or hums here and there in agreement. He had stared at his hands the whole time and traced the lines delicately, as if he was searching for some deeper meaning or purpose behind something seemingly useless._

_“Tony.” Dr. Harmon had addressed him delicately and the man in question had looked up slowly. “How have you been sleeping lately?”_

_Tony had said “Good” so fast that Steve was sure he was lying. He had reached a hand out to comfort the genius, but when the hand reached Tony’s thigh, the man had held his breath… and swatted the hand away wordlessly._

_“Have you had any nightmares? Anything in particular you think might be affecting you more as of late?” The Doctor spoke gently and Tony’s eyes had flicked once towards Steve and then back at his hands. He had shaken his head._

_Steve had noticed the slight tremoring of the man’s body just a second later. “Tony.” He had tried to match the good Doctor’s tone, but now that Steve thought about it, he had just sounded patronizing. “You don’t have to lie just because I’m here. If there’s something going on, you should te--”_

_It was then that Tony had stood up abruptly, ran to the nearest trashcan, and threw up._

_Steve had wanted to help, but the Doctor had placed a hand on his shoulder and mouthed ‘It’s okay’ before going towards the genius himself._

_He had caught a strangled whisper of “I don’t want to be here. I did this for him.”_

_Then Tony had gone, taking all the unspoken promises and the broken, brittle words with him._

_Yet, the next week, FRIDAY had given him the same message and there they had been once more the following Monday. Tony had brought a blanket with him this time and he had stayed wrapped up in that completely. Steve hadn’t tried to touch him this time around._

_It went on for six months. They would slowly move closer to each other on the couch and they would share small touches or soft smiles or chaste kisses every now and then. Tony would open up, but only a little at a time. There had only been glimpses of the taint Siberia and Leipzig had left on Tony and Steve would find it hard to look at him those days for the shame._

_But regardless of the emotional sacrifices they each had to make, Steve had loved therapy. It was a chance to really get to see who they were and how they worked without the pressure of having to figure out all the complicated stuff on their own. It was a chance to see Tony for who he was for once, even though it was broken bits and pieces he chose to reveal. They cried in therapy. They apologized in therapy. They confessed in therapy and Dr. Harmon would guide them. He had felt stable there. As if things would be okay._

_“You’re going to have to forgive me one day, you know.” Steve had said to him once when he had wandered down to the lab._

_Tony had looked at him when he had said this and there had been something flickering in his eyes. It was hard to tell what exactly it was, but Tony had maintained that flicker with an intensity that almost brought back the sparkling luster he had sported in the past. He had kept staring for a while and Steve had stared right back, willing Tony to give him an answer. In the end, the genius had nodded._

_Steve had taken that with open hands and a heavy heart and had kissed Tony good night._

_Despite all of that, Steve and Tony still had not slept in the same bed. Their nights were spent floors apart and they would part with small pecks on the cheek or on the corner of lips. Tony would rarely come into the communal floor anymore and it was hard to get any time with him alone. And on the short moments they had had together, it simply consisted of short, clipped, artificial conversations and sparse laughter which soon led to subtle touches which soon led to passionate making out._

_Steve would savor every bit of the intense heat, the electricity they shared. He would pin Tony against the wall and his fingers would tease the other man’s waistband and then… then Tony would push him away. He would draw up the wall and put up guards so compact, he became completely and utterly closed off. “Sorry Cap.” He would say as he straightened out his clothes. “I’m just really busy today and I can’t.”_

_And Steve would say, “I miss you, Tony. I miss what we used to have.” Tony would look at him as if he saw nothing and then he would shrug._

_“I’m just tired right now, okay?”_

_And Steve would beg. “I love you, Tony. I want it with you because I love you.”_

_Tony would nod once and that would be the end._

_Steve had brought it up in therapy once: sex. It had been the day before the ‘explosive argument’ and neither him nor Tony had had a good day that day and Steve was frustrated._

_“Do you find sex to be an easy way for you to release pent up stress, Steve?” Dr. Harmon had asked him when the topic was brought up and Tony had stared daggers at him, but Steve ignored it._

_“At times, yes. It’s satisfying, to say the least. I haven’t… done it… for more or less than a year now. The last person was,” Steve had hesitated and tried to pretend that Tony wasn’t murdering him with his eyes, “... a hired woman in Wakanda. It was a one time thing!” He said in a rush when Tony had scoffed and shook his head. “I was weak that day and it happened once. I never touched anyone else. Tony, I promise that it meant nothing to me. I was missing what it felt like to make love to you--”_

_“So what is this? Some sick way of guilt tripping me or gaslighting me into putting out for you because you’re so sexually frustrated? Are you kidding me, Steve? I’m not doing this today--” It was the first time Tony had been so openly outraged. Steve had been stuck in between feeling proud of him and growing angry at him._

_“That’s not what I’m trying to do! I thought we were supposed to be honest in therapy, so I’m being honest! I love you, Tony, and I want to make love to you again. I want to remember what it feels like to touch you. You can’t deny that you don’t want that again too. You can’t deny that this is hurting us, Tony!”_

_“And how exactly is this hurting your relationship, Steve?” Dr. Harmon chimed in right when Tony’s face had gotten so red with anger, it looked as if he was going to blow his top._

_Steve had wanted to say so many things. He had wanted to list the reasons off of his list one by one. But all he managed was a meek, “I miss you, Tony.” And he had. He truly had. He hadn’t been able to understand why Tony didn’t get that it was bigger than just sex. That getting to love him like that had completed him in a way that had made him feel secure in their relationship. It wasn’t the sex itself, it was the intimacy. It was the feeling of coming home because that was what Tony was: home. It was knowing every curve and scar on Tony’s body and cherishing it. It was about knowing Tony better than anyone else, about seeing him so vulnerable and raw and unguarded. It was about peeling back layers and letting each other in, about letting each other see parts of themselves they kept closed off to the world because those parts were tender entities built of sensitivity and ghosts from the past._

_It was so hard for Steve to put those feelings into words. It had once been so easy… but that was before._

_He had hated that everything was a comparison now. There was Before the Civil War and After. It left a bad taste in his mouth._

_Tony had stood up rapidly in an attempt to leave, but Steve had grasped his hand. “Don’t go, Tones. We still have fifteen minutes left--”_

_“I’m tired.” He had snapped before wriggling his palm out of Steve’s grip and stalking towards the door._

_Steve had frowned, his frustration morphing into an ugly malice. “Yeah that seems to be quite the excuse nowadays.”_

_The door had slammed behind the genius as he had stormed out._

_Steve had put his head in his hands and groaned._

_“So,” Dr. Harmon had shifted in his chair. “How are we going to fix this?”_

⚜⚜⚜⚜

_When Tony had strolled sleepily into the communal floor the next morning wearing nothing but a tank top and sweats, Steve had been… pleasantly surprised. Tony never came down to the communal floor anymore unless it was absolutely necessary. His talent was avoidance and he practised this with proper skill pretty much every day of his life._

_The second Clint noticed, he had spit poison. “Finally deemed us worthy of your time, Stark? Or is it paining you to have to share the same space with peasants?”_

_Steve tried to intervene. “Clint, that’s enough.”_

_“Why? He spends weeks hiding away wherever the hell and then he just magically appears as if nothing matters? Like he didn’t stick us all in jail or separate us from our families? You know, it’s funny we got the underwater pokey when he’s probably killed more people than all of us combined.” He scoffed. “All from the comfort of his billion dollar homes which he could afford through innocent people's’ deaths. Keep collecting that money, Stark. Maybe you can buy some humanity through the lives of the people you kill next because you managed to create a homicidal toaster or whatever.”_

_Steve figured that it was only luck that Colonel Rhodes had not been present when all this was said. But the others who were there kept silent. They ignored the confrontation and Steve didn’t know what to make of it._

_“Clint, you’re really desperate for attention, you know that?” Steve hissed while also keeping one eye on Tony, who had turned his back to them in the kitchen._

_“Not as desperate as him.” Clint had mumbled in return and had gone back to stirring his cereal with his spoon violently. As if it wasn’t with Tony’s money he even had any breakfast to eat. Steve had wanted to bash his face in._

_“You’re living in his home, surviving off of his generosity. The least you could do is keep your fucking mouth shut--” The super soldier had began, practically seething, and the archer was about to open his mouth again when Tony, who had not said anything the entire time, suddenly spoke up._

_“I’m just getting some coffee. I ran out on my floor so that’s why I’m here. I’ll be gone in two seconds, okay?” His back was still turned towards the counter where the coffee machine was percolating. Steve caught the almost indetectable voice crack and how Tony had tried to make himself look smaller._

_“No, Tony. This is your home and you can go or do whatever the hell you want. Clint is just an asshole who doesn’t know how to appreciate anything.” Steve got up and walked over to the man who had hunched himself over on the counter. He placed a tender hand on the small of Tony’s back. Tony didn’t pull away. His eyes were closed and his brows were furrowed. “We’re a team.” Steve brought back his Captain America voice. “We don’t put each other down like this.”_

_“Yeah, well, a victim of a murder never appreciates the murderer, now does he?” Clint piped up, earning a warning shove from Sam, who mouthed something at him viciously._

_Tony’s eyes shot wide open and they were almost black from the heavy shadow that had been cast over them. Steve monitored the short, spastic breaths the genius took before he lowered his gaze. One single tear slipped out._

_Tony wiped it away instantaneously._

_So Steve slammed his hand against the table and the archer jumped as his bowl of cereal rattled in place. “Are you done?” He growled through clenched teeth._

_Clint simply narrowed his eyes before flipping him off, dumping the bowl in the sink, and leaving to join the others with whatever it was they were doing._

_As soon as the last of the coffee trickled out, Tony made to make his escape. Steve caught his arm and held it tightly. The redness in his lover’s eyes, which were swollen with unshed tears and pain, broke his heart. “Stay.” Steve said softly and he cupped Tony’s face with his hands gently and bumped their foreheads together._

_“They don’t want me here, Steve.” Tony’s whisper was more of a shudder._

_“I want you here.” With that, Steve rested his hands around Tony’s waist and pulled him closer. He let the smaller man bury his face in his chest and he held him tight. “I want you here.” He repeated with finality. “I love you.”_

_And it hurt when Tony still did not say it back to him._

_Before… before, Tony had said it all the time. He had said it first, he had said it aimlessly, he had said it passionately, meaningfully. Before. Fucking before. Steve hated that word. Before was gone. There was only now. Moments turned to oblivion so easily._

_He wanted it to work. He wanted them to work so badly, so intensely, that he stayed up at night thinking about how Tony wasn’t next to him in bed or how Tony didn’t want that normalcy they had had before…_ Fuck. _Steve tried every single day, but every single day, it felt like Tony was drifting._

_The bunker in Siberia tainted them. The lies tainted them. The goddamn shield piercing Tony’s chest tainted them._

_But it was the tear-filled doe eyes which had turned his way after the video had stopped playing that tainted Steve. It was the broken whisper of “Did you know?” and the roiling guilt when he had responded with a meek “Yes.” It was watching Bucky try to pry Tony’s arc reactor out of his suit with a hostile, animalistic hunger he could not recognize. The worst part was, Bucky hadn’t even been The Winter Soldier when all that had happened. He had been James Buchanan Barnes._

_It was watching Tony blast Bucky’s arm off and seeing his best friend’s face contorted in pain._

_It was telling Tony that “he could do this all day,” as if Tony hadn’t been his lover, nor a hero, nor a good man, but a bully._

_It was telling Tony that Bucky “was his friend” and hearing Tony say “So was I.”_

_But Tony had been so much more than that. So much more._

_And yet… yet… even after putting his lover through so much emotional turmoil, even after he watched Howard and Maria Stark die before him at the hands of The Winter Soldier--it had been Tony whom he had left behind in Siberia. It had been Tony whom he had walked away from--the man whom he shared his heart with, who was everything to him--broken and bloody and beaten to a pulp by… by_ him: _Steven Grant Rogers. Captain Fucking America. A man of good morals. He was never supposed to leave a man behind._

 _How could he have hurt Tony so badly?_ His _Tony. How could he have been so… so selfish and blind and arrogant and… and… he fucked up. Oh God, he had fucked up._

_A determination plumed in the pit of his stomach like the tiniest flame. A promise. To make things right. Steve promised himself that he would grovel, he would beg, he would get down on his knees and plead for mercy if that’s what it took for Tony to forgive him._

_So when he kissed Tony’s lips, he prayed that that remorse radiated, that the guilt he was feeling could somehow be assuaged because Tony would look at him and say those words back. And they could be happy again because Steve would never hurt him again. Never. He kissed and kissed those lips and guarded his Tony from the others’ striking, mean words. He pushed Tony back against the counter gently and pulled their bodies closer as their tongues began to dance with each other and the heat began to blossom in the pits of their stomachs._

_“Not… here, Steve.” Tony gasped in between. “They’re watching.”_

_Steve spared a glance back at the others, who were promptly ignoring them. Bucky had his arm around Natasha. They looked happy. And preoccupied. Steve smiled and turned back to his own lover. “They’re busy.” He said softly while pressing kisses on Tony’s jaw line and then slowly down his neck. “They’re oh so busy.” He smiled against Tony’s lips and consciously ran his hand along the curve of the smaller man’s ass before squeezing lightly._

_“Mmm… Steve, stop.” It was a quiet thing, that protest. The super soldier swallowed it when their lips joined once more. He tried to hoist the genius up onto the countertop, but Tony pushed the hands away, hissing “No.”_

_Steve sighed, dejected, as the brunette turned around to grab his coffee, but he stood there, silent. As if he was waiting for something._

_Taking the hint, the super soldier closed the gap between their bodies once more and he heard Tony inhale sharply. Then he arched his back so that his ass would grind against Steve’s groin. Steve dragged a hand up Tony’s thigh and leaned into his body. “I’m sorry.” He muffled into the crook of the genius’ neck before biting down gently and licking the wound to assuage the small hurt. “For everything. I hurt you so much. So much.” Steve buried his head in Tony’s hair and pressed kisses down his neck. He rolled his hips a little to create friction between his rising cock and Tony’s curved ass. “Please forgive me.” He whispered in Tony’s ear before nipping the lobe lightly with his teeth. “Forgive me.” Tony only responded with a small moan as he hunched over the counter top and let Steve move his hands lower and lower until he was slipping his fingers down the genius’ waistband. “Let me love you again.” Steve moved his fingers down smooth skin and Tony stilled in his grip. “Let me back in. Let’s try to be happy again, to go back to what we were before. I love you. I still love you…”_

_“Stop it.” Tony deadpanned in a vicious whisper. The heat had suddenly broken for him. “Steve, let go of me.”_

_But everything had been so perfect. It had all been so perfect until that moment, when Steve had tried to put it all back together again. He loved Tony. He couldn’t let him go… not again… He was so sorry, he was trying to make things right. He couldn’t lose that opportunity. He was so close to him now… it had taken so long to get so close. Not again. He won’t lose him again. Not again, not again, not again._

_“Come on, baby.” Steve found Tony’s length and when he caressed his fingers on it lightly, the smaller man gasped and arched back even further. The genius was semi-hard. “Let me show you how much I love you. This is our chance, Tony. This is our chance to make things right again. Come with me, let’s go to my room.”_

_Tony tugged Steve’s arm upwards and then delicately removed the soldier’s fingers from his body. The genius turned in his cage that Steve had made with his own body and the counter top, and put his palms flat against Steve’s chest._

_He pushed him back. “No, Steve.” His voice was heavy, as if he had caught a cold. Those brown eyes glistened with something, but it wasn’t tears. “Okay? No.”_

_It was a decision. It was a wall. It was a guard._

_It was indestructible._

_And there was nothing Steve could do to tear it down._

_So he backed away solemnly and put space between them. The rising intensity and heat he was craving dissolved as quickly as *that*. Steve leaned against the kitchen island and stared up at the ceiling, his eyes suddenly heavy and wet. He heard Tony sigh and when Steve looked back at him, the genius was rubbing his temple slow and hard with his fingers, as if he was beginning to feel the effects of a migraine._

_“How long, Tony?” Steve asked quietly, voice shuddering and heart clenching. Tony’s head shot up and he seemed to squint at him, as if he was searching for an answer. The brunette looked so tired and the wrinkles in his face were deeper. He had been fighting so many battles throughout the entirety of his life. Steve hated that Tony had become one too. “How long are you going to punish me?”_

_The disbelief laced in Tony’s tired eyes scared him a little. He seemed so… scathed, so…_ **_angry_ ** _. “I’m not punishing you, you narcissistic asshole--I’m having trouble forgiving you for leaving me alone in the freezing cold, with a broken suit in fucking Siberia! For your hypocrisy, which has chipped away at my non-existent self-esteem ever since the first day I met you! For lying about who really killed my parents, my_ **_mom,_ ** _for years like I meant nothing to you!”_

_Tony had started with a quiet hissing, but then his voice raised and raised and then he was yelling at him. Full and complete with his arms flinging and his chest heaving. The others were staring now and so was Steve. He had never heard Tony yell before. Never like this._

_“You want me to have sex with you?  When I can’t even look at your face without seeing the look on it when you were driving a vibranium shield onto my head and my chest as if I wasn’t the man you said you would never hurt, who you would always love and protect! When I can’t get past the coldness in your eyes when you said that you_ **_knew_ ** _what he did and you still beat me and beat me and beat me and when your best fucking friend was ripping the arc reactor out of my chest, which_ **_you knew_ ** _terrified me because of what Stane did, you stood by and you_ **_encouraged_ ** _him!”_

_The genius’ face was flushed red and there was a steady quaking in his words, as if he was building up to a height only to be toppled down again. To be shattered._

_And Steve felt a hopelessness take over the part of him that was solid determination. He could feel the crumbling of whatever they had fixed. He could hear the cracks and the breaks. He could feel Tony’s hand slipping out through his fingers like water. His own face was flushed too, but not of anger, but of hurt. Of frustration. He knew he made mistakes. He was trying to compensate, he was trying to apologize. Why couldn’t Tony see that? Why couldn’t Tony try too?_

_“I screwed up!” Steve roared, his arms flaring and his back straightening so that he could tower over the brunette. “I’m sorry! God, Tony, I’ve said sorry so many times to you. It’s been half a year since we came back and I’m_ **_trying_ ** _to make things right!” He grit his teeth and before Tony could open his mouth, Steve began again. “I did what I did in Siberia to protect my friend because_ **_you_ ** _attacked us first! You began the fight, Tony! And then you blew off his arm! You hurt my friend, Tony! My_ **_family_ ** _! The only one I had left of my past. And all I saw after that was red! Tell me you wouldn’t do the same for Rhodey! Tell me you wouldn’t go to the lengths I did--”_

_That was when Tony slipped past him and began to storm off, his sniffles were loud and clear. But Steve quickly completed the distance the smaller man had traveled in two strides before grabbing his wrist violently. “You’re never one to walk away from a fight.” He spat, malice and poison laced in every word._

_Tony’s streaming eyes hardened. “Oh I’m so_ **_sorry_ ** _that your buddy’s metal, replaceable arm was blown off after he tried to_ **_pry my arc reactor out of my chest._ ** _I’m so_ **_sorry_ ** _you broke the law over and over again instead of letting me help you! Instead of telling me anything!”_

_“You wouldn’t listen! You locked Wanda in her room--”_

_“NO, STEVE!_ **_You_ ** _don’t listen!”_

_“That’s hypocritical--”_

_“SHUT YOUR MOUTH, STEVE, I’M SPEAKING!” It was hearing Tony scream like that, so loud and desperate and furious--it shook Steve down to the core. “People wanted her_ **_head_ ** _for what happened in Lagos! People were outraged and she wasn’t safe! The media was tearing her apart, there were people coming after her! Yes, I locked her in her room! Yes, I told Vision to keep her at the Compound! But she was provided for! She had everything she needed! I didn’t want more blood on my hands, Steve! Not if I could prevent it!”_ ****

_Tony tried to push past the super soldier again, but Steve was like a brick wall. He refused to budge. “Okay.” He answered in a quiet voice as he held onto Tony’s thrashing form. “It’s okay.” He refused to look over towards the witch whose eyes were glowing crimson. She had moved closer to Clint and he had instinctively stepped in front of her in a fighting stance. “Calm down.”_

_“Get the hell off of me.” Tony seethed. “Let me go!”_

_“Tony, I need you to understand something.” Now it was Steve’s voice which broke, it was his eyes which welled with hot, frustrated tears, it was his remorse and guilt and pain which came over him wave upon wave. “Bucky is the only one I have left. When my Ma died, he was there for me. I was alone, I had no one. But Tony, even when I had no one, I had Bucky. And HYDRA took him from me and made him into a monster and that was the monster who killed your parents. I looked into his eyes on the helicarrier that day when SHIELD fell and when he was beating me, I couldn’t recognize him until he recognized_ **_me._ ** _Do you know what that’s like, Tony? To look into the eyes of your best friend and see nothing? To see a killing machine in place of someone you used to know and love? Because HYDRA took that Bucky away and they tried to kill him. But he was there. Underneath. The Bucky I remember from the ‘40s, the one who remembered that I used to wear newspapers in my shoes,_ **_that_ ** _was the Bucky I fought for. I had to make those choices, Tony. I couldn’t lose him. Not again.”_

_Tony stayed silent for a few moments after that. He looked up at Steve with those brown, brown eyes and for a second--for a second, he almost looked innocent. Like a child who had lost his way. He smiled a wry smile, a pathetic quirk of the lips, and a tear fell, but Steve wiped that away. “I guess he really is worth ten of me.”_

_And Steve’s eyes flicked over towards his friend who was staring at his clenched fists. Natasha held onto his arm with a steady hand in an effort to comfort him. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to wear that guilty, devastated expression on his face. He didn’t deserve to watch this pissing contest. Something--something snapped in Steve when he saw Bucky look so broken, so alone._

_So Steve hardened his blue eyes until they were ice and he went back to Tony, who had gone still in his grip. Through gritted teeth, he growled. “I don’t know how to say this without coming off as an asshole--”_

_“It’s never stopped you before.” Tony snapped back, the same fiery rage in his eyes. Steve pushed him back roughly and for a second, he felt a glimpse of guilt when he saw his lover stumble and almost fall. But then--then he thought of Bucky. He thought about how lost he was. How scared and how lonely._

_Then he thought about how it had been Tony who had blown his arm off. How Tony had almost taken his Bucky away from him because he would never_ **_listen._ **

_He clenched his fists._

_Steve opened his mouth to welcome the torrent of hurtful words he had queued up on the tip of his tongue. But it was Tony who beat him to it._

_“My worst fear was losing you! Your worst fear was losing someone else!”_

_Except his words weren’t hurtful, they were shattering. They were broken and shuddering and trembling and desperate. They rang in Steve's ears. It was like a plume of flame had risen within the genius before it had sputtered out and left him cold and shivering._

_Much like Steve and how he had walked away. In Siberia._

_“You’re angry at me--fine, yell at me! Push me around and hit me and tell me I’m worthless! I’m used to it!” With every word Tony spat, Steve’s heart broke a little. The smaller man’s voice was strained, as if it pained him to expel so much emotion, to leave himself so vulnerable again when he knew that he would only get hurt. “Six months in therapy with both of us crying and apologizing was_ **_bullshit._ ** _Tell me the real story now!”_

_And just like that, the hurtful words on the tip of his tongue dissipated and Steve forced himself to look back into those deep, dark brown eyes as they streamed and that beautiful face which looked so tired and worn. “I was there for you, you know?” He spoke softly, his voice heavy and tears welling. “I texted you every damn day when I was still in Wakanda and you never once answered. You never once called. And when we came back, I tried and I tried and I tried and you would always turn around and give me some half-assed excuse as to why you don’t want things to go back to normal--”_

_“Did it not_ **_once_ ** _occur to you that I was working my ass off to try and get you guys back? Did it not occur to you that maybe I wasn’t sleeping anymore or eating or even building in the shop because I had to deal with the government all by myself every fucking day and negotiate and plead and give up my pride and dignity so that they could pardon all of you? So that Barnes wouldn’t get incarcerated?”_

 _Steve stayed silent and watched as Tony’s chest heaved. He was so damn frustrated. Of_ **_course_ ** _he knew how much Tony had worked to get them back. But was it too much to spare a couple of seconds to text him back? Was it too much for him to try? Why did they keep fighting like The Battle of the Sommes? It made no sense, it made no_ **_fucking_ ** _sense. “I was there for you! After we came back, I held you when you cried and I soothed you when you got scared or had nightmares! I was patient and understanding and I put_ **_your_ ** _feelings first!”_

_“My hero.” Tony seethed, each word dripping with drawling sarcasm._

_Steve wanted to throttle him. “You don’t even care, do you? You don’t even want to try. You don’t even want to try to get things back to normal--”_

_Tony’s voice broke even more and became smaller and smaller as he pointed a finger at him. “Did you not once think that maybe things are never going to be normal again? That I can’t… I can’t_ **_breathe_ ** _sometimes when I’m near you because--because the last time you straddled me, you were trying to kill me?”_

_All the air got sucked out of the room and finally--finally, Steve saw. He saw what he had done. He saw how he had sucked the life out of the man he loved. How much he had hurt him._

_“Everyone leaves me, Steve.” Tony continued, his resolve shattered and his words a teary mess. “One way or another. Or they use me and then they betray me and it hurts. It really fucking hurts, Steve. I just… I hate myself for believing that you wouldn’t leave me behind too. For believing that I finally_ **_mattered_ ** _to somebody, that I was part of something special.” He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears spilled. “I just wanted to get some coffee.” He chuckled wryly before moving past Steve. He didn’t even bother to look back at the hand the super soldier had extended. A plea for him to stay._

_Just like that, the tension in the room snapped and the weight of the scrutiny from the others’ gazes fell upon the super soldier’s shoulders. Even Bucky wore a look of incredulousness paired with guilt and a deep, cutting pain. He met Bucky’s blue eyes and the metal armed man jerked his head in the direction of the door. “Go.” He seemed to say. “Don’t lose him like this.”_

_So Steve glanced once at everyone, who all seemed to say the same thing._

_He chased Tony. The brunette was about to enter the elevator, sans coffee, when Steve jerked him back and pulled him in for a tight hug. Tony’s breath caught and he let the man sob freely into his chest and Steve held him._

_“I love you.” Steve whispered in his ear. “I love you and I don’t want to lose you. This is our second chance, Tony. I’m so sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am, baby. I’m sorry for leaving you, for lying to you, for hurting you so fucking much. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He muffled the apologies into Tony’s hair, praying that if he said it enough times, if he got onto his knees… maybe…  “Please forgive me.” He pleaded, his knees now on the cold floor and Tony’s hands gathered in his and pressed to his forehead. “Please, Tony. Please, I’m so sorry.” Tony stayed silent and Steve prayed. He prayed. “I want it all with you, Tony. I want us to be happy again. But I need to know that you want it too. I need you to want it too.”_

_It took several moments before Tony said in a hardened voice, “Get up, Steve.” But Steve stayed, praying and praying and praying. “Jesus fucking Christ. Just get up.”_

_So Steve got up. He got up ever so slowly and delicately and wished that it hadn’t come to this. That life hadn’t made him choose between his best friend and his lover._

_“I need time.” Was what Tony said as he wiped at his flushed face. “I need you to give me space and time.”_

_Steve had just stared at him, blinking stupidly. He couldn’t understand. He had apologized so many times, they had gone to therapy for six whole months so why… why wasn’t he…_

_“Tony, please.” He reached for the brunette’s arms, but Tony jumped back._

_“Don’t touch me!” The genius snapped and Steve dropped his hands. “I don’t know, Steve.” Tony shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. His eyes were glassy once more and he sniffled as tears rolled down once more._

_“Don’t cry, Tony.” Steve pleaded as he reached forward and wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist. “Don’t cry.”_

_Tony writhed and struggled in the super soldier’s grip. “Stop--don’t--get off me, Steve! Get the hell off of me! Get off!” And even though Tony pushed at him and screamed in his face to leave, Steve planted himself like a tree and he held on. He accepted the pounding on his chest and the verbal abuse because he couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t lose Tony. He won’t lose Tony._

_“Let go of him, Steve.” It was Sam who walked in on them and his expression was blank, his tone cold._

_“Tony, no--” Steve called after the brunette as he wriggled out of his grip and stalked away. He didn’t once look back._

_“Let him go.” Sam said when Steve made to follow._

_Tony didn’t go to therapy that week. Or the next._

_The days became colder. So did the people around him. Steve wondered what the difference between being stuck in the ice and being alive was. It all felt the same to him._

_And the only one who could melt the frost--Tony--he was nowhere and everywhere at once._

* * *

 

A day after Steve got his hallucinations, well, now that the evil being who wore Tony’s face followed him around pretty much everywhere so he wasn’t cured of it at all, Steve found himself wandering outside Tony’s hospital room. He got used to the voices inside his head, the ones who used Tony’s voice to speak.

So he ignored the being when he sneered at him as he stood outside the room, looking through the glass at the still form in the hospital bed. Still sleeping. He was just sleeping. _“About a week left now before they unplug him.”_ Evil Tony whispered in his ear maniacally, as if it was all a game. _“What are you going to do then, huh? When he’s dead?”_

Steve threw a fist at empty air and then clenched and unclenched his fingers. “Fu--”

“Mr. Stark had the same issue.” Vision, who had phased through the wall, was suddenly standing next to him. He wore a sweater and jeans, yet, the purple and red of his face and hands gave way to absurdity even though he was dressed like a human.

With Vision, it was hard to tell exactly what he was thinking. The android was unapproachable. Especially for Tony. Vision had JARVIS’ voice and there was only so much emotional turmoil a man could go through.

“ _Has,_ Vision. He _has._ ” Steve stressed, throwing darting glances around him rapidly, in search of the fucktard who was harassing him.

“Of course, Captain Rogers.” The android agreed. They stared at Tony through the glass for a couple seconds longer before Vision spoke again. “The part of me that is JARVIS remembers Mr. Stark having visions or nightmares which triggered his anxiety to the point where he stopped sleeping. For days on end. I still feel it. Fear. Fear _for_ Mr. Stark. Fear of my own and fear from JARVIS. For the longest time, he has had no one.” There was a pause where Steve closed his eyes and breathed deeply before opening them again. “I think, towards the end, Mr. Stark still felt that way. Even though he was surrounded by people.”

Steve looked at the android and it was hard to interpret that almost pinched look on that red and purple face. Maybe it was pain. Maybe it was grief.

“He would see things.” Vision spoke once more. “And he would call the air by your name, Captain Rogers, and there would be nothing there.”

Steve turned around and left. He didn’t check to see whether the android had as well.

Not Tony trailed right behind him and Steve put fingers in his ears to block out the taunting.  

⚜⚜⚜⚜

Later that day, he got a frantic call from Natasha. Tony was going into cardiac arrest.

And then he had ran with his heart rattling in his chest and his mind replaying the same words over and over again as he begged and pleaded for Tony to “ _please stay alive. Please don’t leave me. Please, Tony. I can’t do it without you.”_

And when he got there, there were doctors pushing him back, not letting him into the room. He begged. They refused. He screamed. They threatened to call security. He acquiesced. Natasha held onto him as they watched through the glass.

Ms. Potts and Colonel Rhodes were there too. She was sobbing into his shoulder while he was blinking rapidly, holding back tears as he whispered, “Come on, Tony. Come on, you jackass.”

“CLEAR!”

Steve whipped around, back to his lover who was losing grip on the thread of life, and saw Tony’s chest jolt.

And then nothing.

In the background, Steve could only hear the steady beat of his own heart and white noise laden with the doctor’s frantic shouts to nurses and the flat line of the heart monitor. Tony’s heart wasn’t beating. Oh _God,_ Tony’s heart wasn’t fucking beating.

“NO PULSE!”

Steve’s breathing was hollow in his ears as he pressed a hand against the glass. He wondered if it felt like time was slowing down for everyone else too. As if all the seconds of the clock ticked closer and closer to an ultimatum from the Grim Reaper and there was nothing Steve could do to punch his way out.

How could he? It was impossible to fight death.

“CLEAR!” He heard again, the yell piercing through his smoke screen of surrealness and bringing back hints of reality.

Tony’s chest jolted.

“NO PULSE!”

Nothing.

The being appeared beside him, cruelly beautiful, and he smirked with an evil and a crookedness which made Steve wonder if this fake Tony was truly death himself. _“Not too much longer now.”_ The being said in a warped voice which sounded too possessed to be Tony’s. _“The poor Captain’s going to be all alone.”_ He mocked in his ear in a sing-song voice.

So Steve grabbed the being with an iron grip and he knew that the veins in his neck and forehead were sticking out on his flushed, red skin. He knew he looked delusional, he knew his blue eyes had gone stormy. “You listen to me.” Steve said through gritted teeth as he spit poison into the fake Tony’s face. “You _do not_ touch him. Whatever battles you want to fight, you fight them with _me._ You get that? It’s just _you_ and _me._ Leave him alone. Let him live.”

 _“Oh Captain, my Captain.”_ The warped voice turned back into a familiar one that Steve had not heard in weeks. That sweet voice. His Tony. _“It’s so funny how naive you can be, darling. Can’t you see? I wanted to die.”_ Steve threw a fist at the being with a desperate cry stuck in the back of his throat. This wasn’t him. It wasn’t, it wasn’t, it wasn’t. _“Why would you fight a battle you know you are not going to win? Why would you fight for someone you’ve already lost?”_

“You’re not real.” Steve whimpered as the doctors yelled “CLEAR!” again. “You’re a liar.”

 _“No Steve._ **_You’re_ ** _a liar. I did not appear out of thin air, my love. You created me.”_

Tony’s chest jolted one last time.

 _“And when he’s gone,”_ The being whispered in his ear, prompting a shudder down Steve’s spine, _“you’ll be stuck with me for the rest of your life.”_

“WE GOT A PULSE! WE GOT A PULSE!”

He was back in that same room, behind that same glass window where Tony was breathing again. Steve hadn’t known that he had been holding his own breath for so long. He didn’t know that he hadn’t moved from the spot where Natasha had stationed them both at.

The being had disappeared.

Steve made a low whining noise that sounded more guttural towards the end. Natasha had been holding onto him so tightly and now her grip relaxed and Steve’s face contorted with a twisted sort of pain. He hunched over, but his knees trembled viciously. So he sank into a seat and put his head in his arms. He didn’t even have enough energy to sob.

Natasha was rubbing circles on his back and saying something soothing in Russian. He didn’t hear her.

He had almost lost Tony.

Tony had almost died.

And he still wouldn’t wake up. 

The monotonous heart monitor continued its somber pattern.

⚜⚜⚜⚜

Steve didn’t really have the heart to open his laptop and keep watching. There were three more videos left.

The doctors told them that the reason Tony had gone into cardiac arrest was because of an arrhythmia he had had before, which sometimes caused his heartbeat to slow down. This pre-existing condition was from back when Tony got the shrapnel removed from his chest and had installed a false sternum in place of the arc reactor.

The head doctor told them that this condition had been worsened quite recently due to large blows to the sternum and Tony’s coma induced state had only given more way for his irregular heart beat to gain an advantage, eventually causing his blood to not receive enough oxygen and his heart to stop beating altogether.

They said they would attempt therapeutic hypothermia to reduce any chance of brain damage and to increase chances of Tony regaining consciousness.

But Steve had seen the look in the doctor’s eyes. Her face had betrayed nothing but there was a shadow cast above her gray eyes, as if she was trying to tell them to prepare themselves.

Just in case they had to say goodbye.

It wasn’t her fault. The rational part of Steve knew that. The rest of him hated her. She was a doctor for fuck’s sake! She couldn’t look at them like that, like she knew that it was useless to hope! She was supposed to fix things, goddamnit! She was supposed to make things better.

When Tony was moved into the ICU and he was situated with the lowered body temperature, there were even more tubes and lines plugged into his body. He looked so small and withered in that bed which seemed to swallow him up.

It was by impulse that Steve tucked the blanket up higher.

Twenty four hours. That’s what the doctors said. Twenty four hours before those blue lips turned pink again and Tony’s hand would stop feeling so cold and clammy and plastic. And then slowly, they would raise his temperature back up to normal.

And then three days of waiting to see if there would be any response. If Tony would finally decide to come back.

“How long, Doctor?” Steve had asked the woman who was trying her best. “How long before he wakes up?”

She had sighed and given him a small smile that was supposed to be reassuring. “The only one who can answer that question is asleep right now.” She had said gently before reaching out to touch his arm. “Mr. Stark is the only one who can decide what happens from this moment forward.”

Steve had nodded but he knew… if what she had said was true… then maybe it was better to accept that maybe Tony wasn’t going to…

“They say that people in comas can still hear us.” Steve hadn’t realized when Pepper had walked in. At one point she had changed clothes because she wasn’t wearing her crisp business suit anymore, but sweatpants and a faded sweatshirt. She had removed all of her makeup and Steve could now see the weariness the layers of foundation and concealer had hidden. She was still beautiful, yet the lines of exhaustion laced the corners of her mouth and eyes and repressed fury seemed to thrum in her veins.

“Ms. Potts.” Steve greeted quietly, keeping his head down. How could he face her? How could he face the woman Tony loved and trusted like a best friend when he was the man who ultimately destroyed the only family she had?

She didn’t even look his way.

“Did Colonel Rhodes want to visit? I could always step out and give him a few min--”

“Rhodey is making a phone call to another one of Tony’s close friends.” She said stonily as she sat beside Tony opposite of Steve and took a hand of her own. “Happy.” The name was barely a whisper.

Steve didn’t know Happy. He knew that the man played an important part of Tony’s life, that he was another part of Tony’s little makeshift family which included Pepper and Rhodey.

So Steve simply nodded and kept his gaze on Tony’s hand. He traced the lines on the man’s palm and thought that his fingers looked so small and frail. He pressed them to his cheek.

“What would you tell him?” Pepper asked in a tiny voice after a few minutes passed in silence. “If you knew he could hear you?” He knew she was looking straight at him with a gaze sharp enough to cut glass. So he slowly raised his blue eyes and nearly flinched at the coldness she radiated.

He stalled by raising Tony’s knuckles to his lips and kissing them tenderly. Slowly.

The silence was deafening. A taut rope was strung between him and the CEO and he could feel her repressed fire licking at the tips of her mouth as they begged to be released so that she may burn him with her wrath.

But not once did she say another word. He felt her eyes on him and it made him want to cower.

“If he could hear me…” he began delicately, his breathing a little short. He had had a speech prepared, one that stretched from the center of New York all the way to Leipzig and Berlin and… Siberia. His words of remorse, of guilt, made from broken pieces of his heart, were written with the red strewn across his hands. The paper it was written on was thin. Weak. It fell apart every time his tears made their mark. Apologies and sorries and desperate pleas to be forgiven and yet… yet when Pepper asked him this simple question… the speech dissolved and disappeared.   

“I’d tell him--” He started once more but the words melted on his tongue and he was left gaping stupidly.

“I know what I’d tell him.” Pepper whispered and inhaled deeply. “I’d say, ‘Tony, you fucking bastard,’” Steve managed a small laugh at that, “‘you still have a family waiting for you to come home. You still have a family who loves you and your life--’” The CEO sobbed then and Steve clenched his eyes shut. “‘--your life matters to us. Tony… you’re all I have too, you know?’”

She muffled sobs into her hands and then mumbled things incoherently. Her face was flushed and her eyes were wet and red.

In the background, leaning against the wall, stood the being. It was smirking at Pepper’s back and Steve closed his eyes. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t real, it wasn’t real.

As he was walking out to let Pepper have Tony to herself, Steve bumped into Colonel Rhodes, who was using his braces to stand outside the Tony’s room as if he was waiting for the super soldier to come out.

“Ms. Potts is inside. I was just leaving if you wanted to--”

“Cap.” Rhodey silenced him with a coldness Steve had never thought the Colonel was capable of. He looked up at the soldier with a hollow gaze and it made Steve want to shrink back. “Tony might not--” Rhodey bit his lip as his eyes narrowed and his face contorted with so much repressed pain and anger and emotion, “If he doesn’t… I want you to leave.” Steve stilled, too many thoughts running through his head. He nodded and acquiesced. He didn’t have energy for a fight. And besides, if Tony--if he died--then Steve wouldn’t _want_ to stick around. Too many memories. Too much heartbreak.

“If he does wake up,” Rhodes continued with a solid determination that seemed to be crumbling, “and he even _hints_ at not wanting you around, then you hightail _the_ _fuck_ out and _never_ come back.”

Colonel Rhodes, brother, savior, and protector of Tony Stark, left Steve Rogers  absolutely silent and shaken in the hallway of the medical wing as he moved past the soldier to be with his best friend.


	5. Hypocrites

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics are now the videos.

_“Do you mind if I record this session?” Dr. Harmon asked politely_ _to Tony, who was curled up on the couch with a blanket draped over him._

_ “You’re already recording, aren’t you?” Tony responded quietly and as genial as he could be. “Go nuts, I guess. You’re the doctor. You know best and all that jazz.”  _

_ Dr. Harmon smiled and Tony seemed to shrink in on himself. “How have you been holding up since the last time we met, Tony?”  _

_ “Fine.” _

_ “Tony…” The Doctor said in an admonishing tone and the man in question sucked his teeth. “Anything new happen in your life lately?”  _

_ “I went to MIT for the September Foundation to demonstrate my new BARF tech--Binarily Augmented Retro Framing, not literally… ugh.” Tony buried his face in his knees, which he had drawn up to his chest.  _

_ “It’s okay, Tony. I wasn’t judging you. What does it do, your… BARF tech?”  _

_ “It’s supposed to um…” Tony lifted his head again and his bottom lip seemed to be quivering a little, but the genius powered on. “It alters memories. Traumatic ones. Helps with mental illnesses like depression or anxiety. I showed the kids an altered memory of… um… the last time I saw my parents.” Tony cleared his throat. _

_ “Why did you pick that memory specifically?” _

_ Tony stared at his hands. “It’s always haunted me, I guess.” He said quietly. “Their death. Never got over it, really.” He sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”   _

_ “Okay… but overall, what you did sounds really interesting. It’s good that you’re investing time and money to find ways to help out those suffering from mental health issues like you are. It shows that you’re improving. Soon, you’ll be able to overcome them indefinitely. And you’ll have helped a lot of people throughout that journey as well. You should be proud of yourself.” A pause. “How’d the students react to it?” _

_ “Oh they loved it. Especially the part where I told them that all of their projects were being funded by yours truly.” Tony smiled a little at that and he bunched his fists in his blanket.  _

_ “That’s amazing! What compelled you to such generosity?”  _

_ Tony scoffed self-deprecatingly. “Guilt. Trying to…” he exhaled and closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly, “... atone for my sins. For Sokovia. Obviously, it’s never going to be enough.”  _

_ “Why is that?” The doctor waited patiently as Tony picked at a loose strand on his blanket in order to stall for time. “Tony?” _

_ “Because I’m a murderer, Dr. Harmon.” Tony said this near silently and he clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. There was a beat of silence.  _

_ “What makes you think that?”   _

_“Charles Spencer… he was… intelligent, young, kind, generous, so full of potential and we… we dropped a building on him. In Sokovia. His mom was there. At MIT. She told me she blamed me.” Tony bit his lip as his words turned into mere whimpers. “For his death.” A single tear rolled down his cheek and he moved to quickly wipe it away._ _  
_ _Dr. Harmon stayed silent for a moment as he contemplated. “Anger, grief, and loss can cause a person to often become desperate in their search for someone to blame. Strong emotion can cloud judgement and then it only becomes one’s mission to hurt whoever they can so that others may feel the same pain they have suffered. So whatever Ms. Spencer said to you--don’t take it to heart.”_

_ “She wasn’t just angry or bitter, goddamnit! She was right! Our-- _ **_my_ ** _ mistakes caused innocent people to lose their lives! Charles could have been somebody, he could have had a family, been a father, changed the fucking world and I took that away from him!” _

_ “Tony, lower your voice.” Dr. Harmon warned gently and Tony’s flushed face and dilated pupils subsided slightly. “You changed ‘our’ to ‘my’ rather quickly. Why?” _

_ “Because I…” Tony bellowed before catching himself. In a smaller, pinched voice he said, “Because  _ **_I_ ** _ built Ultron.” He looked down at his hands. “And it happened again. It happened again in Lagos. More innocent people died because Wanda couldn’t control her powers. I warned them, I warned Steve that she needed to be trained, that she wasn’t completely ready yet to go out and do missions if she wasn’t in control of her abilities but he wouldn’t listen and he took her out with Sam and Natasha to intercept HYDRA from getting to a biological weapon and people… more people… innocent people died… and I…”  _

_ Tony was hyperventilating with his head in his arms. _

_ “Calm down, Tony. Use the breathing exercises I taught you. Come on, it’s okay. In and out. In. Out. See? That’s it. That’s it. Take a second if you need to.”  _

_ When Tony spoke again, his cheeks were wet and his words were teary. “I could have stopped it.” _

_ “You can’t blame yourself for something you were not even there for. This was an accident. Nothing more. Nothing less. There was nothing you could have done to change what happened.” _

_ “I should have insisted with Steve. I should have gotten him to listen. This wouldn’t have happened if I had just tried harder. If I had just… but he doesn’t talk to me anymore, Dr. Harmon. He doesn’t want to.” _

_ “Why do you feel that way?”  _

_ “Ever since Ultron… things haven’t been the same. It’s my fault, I drove this wedge between us. After Sokovia, he doesn’t look at me the same anymore. How can I blame him? I became a murderer overnight because of my fucking recklessness.” _

_ “Tell me what he’s been doing to make you feel like he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.” _

_ “I feel invisible around him. Doesn’t pick up the phone when I call him. Doesn’t answer when I text. Doesn’t respond when I call his name. He leaves for days and he doesn’t tell me where he’s going. He just says that he’s following leads but he never tells me about what. I can’t contact him when he does this and he’s gone for several days or weeks. Or a month. And when he comes back, he… he doesn’t say two words to me before he takes me to our bedroom and fucks me. It’s rough, more often than not. Not loving and sweet anymore. It’s like he’s frustrated. Angry. Most likely at me. He can’t forgive me for Ultron. But when I ask him, he still tells me that he loves me and he holds me and there’s this sad, almost lost look in his eyes like he’s looking for something and he can’t find it… ” Tony sniffed and tears spilled as he let himself cry. “I think he finds me repulsive now. I think he… I think he doesn’t love me anymore.” The last words were quiet. Strained. As if it hurt for him to say. _

_ “Did you tell Steve how you feel?” _

_ Tony shook his head. “If I do, he’ll leave me.” _

_ “How do you know that?” _

_ There was a pause where Tony opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again. The room stayed silent and then he tried again. “He’s already half gone.”  _

_ The only sound after that was the ticking of the clock and the scribbling of the doctor’s pen in his notebook.  _

_ Tony tried to keep his face straight, to not make it seem like all of it bothered him too much. That he was fine…  _

_ But he took one glance at the concerned expression of the doctor as he frowned at his notes, and he sobbed. Tony buried his face in his blanket and muffled the wail that was tumbling out of his mouth. “I can’t do it anymore.”  _

_ Dr. Harmon stayed solemn, but he stayed in his chair and waited for the wave of emotions to pass over.  _

_ “I just want it all to end.”  _

_ “Hey.” Dr. Harmon said a little forcefully, yet maintaining his soft tone. “You can do it, okay? You know what you’re going to do tonight? You’re going to go to bed and have a good night’s sleep and then you’re wake up tomorrow morning and keep pushing through, alright? With or without Steve. You’re going to push through and surround yourself with people who love you. Do you understand?”  _

_ Tony had calmed by then, but the blanket was wrapped around his ever shrinking form even tighter. It took him a couple of seconds to compose himself and when he had finally sniffed himself back into control, he spoke again. This time, with a solid purpose and determination behind his words.  _

_ “There’s this piece of legislation. It’s called the Super-Human Registration Act. Or SHRA. Or the Sokovia Accords, whatever you want to call it. It puts limitations on people like us. It’s not too bad right now but I can… I can sway the government and have the thing amended after we all sign it. To make it less constricting. I know Cap won’t like that. But if I can just get him to listen to me--I won’t be so weak this time. Maybe he’ll get why we need this. If he… if he still loves me, maybe he’ll listen.”  _

_ “Forget Steve for a second. Tony, are you passionate about this?” _

_ “Yeah, you could say that. I just want… accountability. We can’t just waltz into any country, dress up in fancy outfits, play hero, and then… then leave people--innocent civilians--dead. That’s not… it’s not right.” There was a pause where the iron determination behind Tony’s eyes strengthened. He knew he was doing the right thing.  _

_ “If this is what you believe, then you get the hell behind this. You fight for this, Tony. Don’t let Steve take control over your life. Or anybody else for that matter. You do what you think is right and you stand behind it. You don’t budge. Even when everyone else is telling you to.”  _

_ Tony grinned a little. “Aunt Peggy used to say something like that.”  _

_ “Aunt Peggy?”  _

_ “My Godmother. She’s better known as Agent Carter. She used to say something like that. ‘Plant yourself like a tree. If the whole world is telling you to move, then you tell them no. You move.’ Something like that.”  _

_ “She sounds like a wise woman.” _

_ Tony let himself smile a little wider. “Yeah. She is.” A slight pause where he sniffed and wiped at his wet cheek. “She doesn’t really remember me too much anymore. She called me Howard a couple of times.” He smiled despite the reference to his father and sighed deeply, closing his eyes a little as if he was seeing Peggy on the back of his lids. Her radiant, rouge smile; intense, dark eyes; and an aura of power, of security, that no other man could ever beat.  _

_ “I’ll fight for this. Steve might not agree at first, but… if he listens… I have sway over the government. Those documents can be amended. We can talk about this and… and come to a compromise.” There was a slight sheen of a dull sparkle behind Tony’s chocolate brown eyes. It almost resembled hope.  _

_ “That’s the spirit.” Dr. Harmon smiled genially and they both stood up simultaneously. They shook each other's’ hand briskly.  _

_ “And Doc… if you could just… not mention my breakdown to anyone, that’d be great.” Tony still clutched the blanket and it made him seem… innocent. Strangely, adorably innocent.  _

_ Dr. Harmon twitched his lips up and nodded. “But Tony, if I sense that you may be a threat to yourself or others, it is my responsibility to contact the authorities. You know that, right?”  _

_ There was a shroud of silence before Tony finally said in a soft voice, “I’ll try not to be a danger to anyone.”  _

_ He left the room after that and the therapist sighed before sinking back into his chair. He put his head in his hands for a few seconds and then turned the camera off. _

* * *

 

There was a young man--a teenager--sitting by Tony’s bedside. He had a mess of floppy, brown hair and a lost look in his large, innocent eyes. 

Steve imagined that maybe he too had looked that way back then, when he was looking for Bucky--like a part of him was detached and aimlessly floating around, searching for the one thing he had left of the past. The one person who had held him up for so many years, had kept him going even after his mother had died, had never left him alone. A good man. 

He imagined himself with hollowed cheeks and a transparent body, wafting like a ghost who had never achieved peace. He smiled a little at the amusing image. 

The teenager’s gaze was heart wrenching. Steve’s little smirk at his own amusing thoughts fell when he caught sight of the red rimmed eyes and that deep pool of loss embedded in his pale, almost gaunt face. He was barely--what? Fifteen? Sixteen? There was too much sorrow in that young body to last a lifetime. 

Yet, despite those wrangling shadows, Steve sensed a fire in the kid’s heart. He could feel it when the kid opened his mouth with a whisper of “Captain America.” That same fire burned in the kid’s personality, in his aura. He was going to be a great man someday. A hero. 

Steve recognized that flame and realized that it reminded him of Tony. 

“You’re the kid from Queens.” Was what Steve said before offering a small smile. He tried to ignore Tony’s withering, stiff form which was lying so still and silent on the bed. “Underoos.” Steve breathed, remembering what Tony had called the Spider child right before he had stolen his shield. 

“And you’re from Brooklyn.” The kid said, looking up at him with darting, stinging glances.  “You tried to smush me in Germany.” He laughed a small thing, but he clamped his mouth shut soon after. “But Mr. Stark always said you were a good man. He wouldn’t hear a word against you. Told reporters that called you a criminal to stuff it. In a less polite way, obviously. I kept track of him after what happened. On the TV and everything. He kept track of me too. Took care of me.” He bit his lip and finally lifted his head to meet Steve’s downcast eyes. “Sorry. I’m rambling. I tend to do that when…” He bit his lip harder and Steve saw the tiny bit of blood. “I’m not supposed to be here. I’m ditching school for this. Aunt May is going to freak but… I got Happy to drive me here. It was one of the only times he actually responded to a text.” He laughed half heartedly again. “Sorry, ugh God, I keep doing this. I’m… I’m Peter. Peter Parker.” 

“Steve.” He held out a hand and Peter stared at it for a second before taking it. His grip was loose, as if the match which had burned at his core had been snuffed out. Peter’s hand dropped to his side almost limply when Steve let go. They stayed in silence for a bit, both of them listening to the whoosh and whir of the ventilator as it forced Tony to breathe. “I’m sorry we had to meet like this.” A pause. “He’s going to wake up. I promise you.” 

Peter sobbed. He tried his best to repress it, but failed. The sound came out strangled. “And if he doesn’t?”

“He will.” Steve refused to think about what would happen if the opposite occurred. If that ventilator stopped and that heart monitor flatlined. He couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t. 

“My mom and dad died in a plane crash and then Uncle Ben died. It’s been me and May for the longest time and when I finally… when I finally got Tony, it felt--I was--I finally had someone… a--a father figure, I guess you could say. And now--now that I’m on the brink of losing him too… I can’t… Why did he do this?” The last question came out as a wail, a desperate plea to know why. 

Steve wished he could answer him. He wished he could wrap his arms around the teenager and comfort him. But when he went in for a hug, the teenager pushed back, scathed and frustrated and angry and sad. So incredibly sad. He looked like how Tony had looked. 

“You’re not going to lose him, Peter.” Steve told him, trying to hold himself together for him, for the kid. “ _ We’re  _ not going to lose him.” 

“I used to look up to you.” Steve hung his head when Peter jabbed his pointer finger towards him. “He was all I had left! He was all I had left and you…” The words died on his tongue and Steve reared back. 

“I didn’t… I didn’t make him take those pills, Peter.” His response sounded more of like a wheeze. “I didn’t force him to do what he did. He did that all by himself.” The more he spoke, the more defensive he became. But to Steve, his rebuttals sounded more like denial. His reasoning sounded more like excuses. “I don’t know why he did it. I don’t. But don’t blame me for this, kid. I can’t… I can’t take it. I can’t take that burden. I won’t be able to… to live with myself--” And great, now he was crying too. 

Peter had meanwhile buried his face in his sleeve and he was hunched over, shuddering, his head and arm resting on the bed where Tony’s pale hand lay still. Once upon a time, those calloused, strong hands would build the most extravagant inventions in the world. Once upon a time, those hands created Iron Man. And those hands… although they were not worthy of wielding Thor’s hammer, they created a being that  _ was.  _

“He saved me. At the Stark Expo. It was years ago and Justin Hammer’s robots had gone insane and one of them tried to kill me and Mr. Stark got rid of it before it could hurt me.” The words were mumbled and strung together incoherently, but Steve heard every word. He smiled. Tony was  always a hero. Even before he had been melted out of the ice. 

Peter slowly raised his head. His cheeks were flushed a deep red and they were still wet, but he wasn’t sobbing anymore. That haunted look returned. A part of Steve wished that Peter would start crying again, just so he wouldn’t have to look at those young eyes sport such a hollow and empty gaze. 

Steve risked a gentle hand on the kid’s back. Peter didn’t push away. “I’m sorry.” The teenager murmured as he stared down at his hands and wrung his fingers. “I didn’t mean what I said. I didn’t mean to blame you.”

Steve nodded. “I didn’t tell him to take the pills. But I…” And it hurt to say what he wanted to say next because he had spent so long denying it. He had spent so long brushing it under the rug, pretending that he didn’t see all the times Tony blanched every time he walked too close after he came home from Wakanda, pretending that he hadn’t been drifting from Tony after Ultron, that he hadn’t made him feel so worthless and unloved. He figured, after he came home, after having hurt Tony to the point where he could feel nothing but dread towards his former lover, it had been dickish, to say the least, to expect Tony to fall right back into his arms because Steve had missed him so much. He wanted to laugh at the whole new meaning of ‘you realize just how much you love someone when they’re not around anymore.’ So it hurt to say “But maybe I  _ am _ one of the reasons why he was driven towards it. Maybe I could have done more to see it coming. To stop it before it happened,” but he said it. He said it and he looked right at Tony and prayed that he heard. “And I’m so sorry--so  _ fucking  _ sorry that I became a reason for you to die rather than a reason for you to live.” 

If Pepper was there, he would have told her that he finally had an answer for her. 

“You can’t do that to yourself, Steve.” He heard Parker whisper in the distance. “You can’t villainize yourself now.”  

“I need him to wake up and tell me that I’m wrong.” Steve sniffled and clutched Tony’s hand tightly, willing the warmth, the energy, and the fervor to return. “I need him awake and screaming at me because at least then, he’s  _ saying  _ something and he’s breathing on his own and I don’t have to sit here day after day trying to talk to a  _ body.”  _

Peter didn’t say anything at that. But when his phone pinged, he went to look at the text he got. Judging from his small wince, it was probably a very angry Aunt May. He got up slowly and tentatively placed a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You can’t beat yourself up over something you can’t change. When he wakes up, you have to do everything you can to do better by him.” 

“Tony used to say that.” 

Peter was just at the door when he turned around with a questioning stare. 

“The whole ‘don’t beat yourself up over something you can’t change’ was his schtick.” Steve reiterated. 

The teenager smiled. “He’s kinda a hypocrite, isn’t he?”

Steve snorted. “So am I if we’re all being honest.” 

* * *

 

He often wondered where Thor went off to. Most of the time he thought about how Tony wanted him to stick around more often and how much he would miss “Pointbreak” whenever he wasn’t around. Tony had never fully admitted it, but he loved the Norse God’s Shakespearean way of speaking and his booming voice and his glorious aura. 

Tony would always smile a lot whenever Thor was around. But none of them had heard from the God in years. Steve wondered what he would say when he came back to see that his friends had been split apart over something that now seemed so… so… easily resolvable through communication. Thor would be heartbroken and dispirited. And if he saw Tony lying there in the bed so cold and alone… Christ, Steve wanted to kick himself. He should have just _ told _ Tony. So much could have been fixed, so much could have been different. 

If only Thor had been around to put a smile on Tony’s face. If only Bruce had been around to give him someone to talk to. If only… 

Back in the good days, Steve and Tony would lie in bed together, having the most abstract conversations. Tony would laugh whenever Steve showed confusion towards a movie reference or he furrowed his brows at something new he had never known before because… well, hello, he was a 1940s man. But his genius would sidle up beside him and rest his head on the soldier’s bicep and he would promise to show him the movie he had never seen before or go to the place Steve had never heard of. 

Because Tony was like that. He would buy Pop Tarts for Thor whenever they ran out or he would gift Bruce with state of the art lab equipment or he would create more efficient bows for Clint or he would go to the ends of the Earth to find a certain set of knives for Natasha. 

He would buy beautiful paint sets and sketch pencils and easels and canvases and high quality paper and… and everything for Steve. 

The first time they had made love was after watching the movie Titanic. Steve, being the hopeless romantic that he was, fell head over heels for Jack and Rose’s relationship and he cried when Jack died. Actual, legitimate tears. He had buried his face in Tony’s shoulder and the genius had chuckled before running a hand through Steve’s blond locks. 

_ “Yeah, I know. It’s outrageous, isn’t it? Rose is such a selfish bitch. There was plenty of space on that thing for Jack to climb up on it too.”  _ Tony had said. Steve had gasped in mock protest. 

_ “Rose is not a bitch, Tony. She’s a lovely dame. It wasn’t her fault Jack died.”  _

_ “Sure, but if you love someone, you do whatever you can do keep them alive, right? You try to save them even when you keep failing. Am I getting this wrong or something?”  _

Steve had looked up at Tony with such affection when he had said that that he was pretty sure even Natasha had cooed at them. 

When the movie had ended, Steve had practically dragged Tony up to his art studio, having absolutely fallen in love with the ‘draw me like one of your French girls’ scene. Because he was a sap, he pulled out his dog tags and had given Tony a pointed look which translated to ‘strip.’ 

Tony had taken off his clothes agonizingly slow and Steve had stared. Oh God, had he stared. 

Everything about his body--from the strong arms to the tight stomach to the curve of his back where his body dipped down and came back up to form his perfectly plump ass--was perfect. And they had stood there, simply blinking at each other and Tony had smirked when Steve’s pants had tented in his cock area and Tony’s own length had stood up for attention. The dog tags had gone around the genius’ neck and just… just looking at him wearing the things which marked him as his… it had been difficult for Steve to keep his hands to himself.   

Steve had laid his lover down onto the couch gently, letting his fingers ghost over Tony’s olive skin as he had ordered the genius to pose a certain way. He had embodied sensuality in the arch of his back, the rise and fall of his chest--which had still had the arc reactor back then--and the draping of his arm over his torso while his other had rested beneath his head. 

_ “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.”  _ Steve had awed as he had drawn Tony’s body, all the while wishing that he could caress his lover’s skin, claim him with his tongue, and mark him with his teeth. Tony had been  _ his.  _

And when Steve had finished, he had closed the sketchbook ever so softly, put his pencils aside, and had knelt down beside his man, who was still posing, but this time, he wore a knowing smirk and his eyes had been filled to the brim with a sultry, shadowy lust. None of them had remembered how exactly Steve’s fingers had become coated with lube until the soldier had pressed the flat of his thumb against Tony’s entrance, prompting a soft moan from the genius. 

Those moans had only become louder, more intense, and more desperate as Steve had added more fingers inside Tony’s body and eventually himself. Steve had cherished those touches, he had swallowed every whimper which had escaped Tony’s mouth with his own lips.  _ “Shhh… baby.”  _ Steve had breathed when his breath had mingled with the smaller man’s. He had stored away the intensity of the heat in the dim-lighted art studio that night and the taste of Tony as the genius had made a mess on his abdomen and Steve had scooped up the flavor onto his fingers before sucking on them. 

Steve remembered how it had felt that night afterwards, when they had basked in the post coital bliss and Tony had fallen asleep, nestled on his chest. He had felt one with the universe, one with Tony, and one with himself. There had been an inexplicable, fiery passion in his heart. A promise of a future and a love he would never do anything to break. 

God, how he loved Tony. 

Except he had broken that promise and now all those touches disintegrated and slipped through his fingers. 

So really all he could do now was wait. Pray and wait and hope that he would get to see those chocolate brown eyes again. 

But Tony’s eyes stayed close. 

* * *

 

_ “Mr. Stark, do you mind if I get this on tape?”  _

_ It was 2017, according the date on the camera. It had been a couple of months since the war.  _

_ The man in question rolled out from beneath his hot-rod car and sat up with his head cocked to the side a little, looking at the teenager behind the camera with an amused expression. “Is this for your little video diary thing?”  _

_ “Yeah… kinda.”  _

_ Tony chuckled, but that deep rumble which had used to originate from the pit of his stomach had dissipated and vanished. There were deep hollows under his eyes and his cheeks were sunken. His hair was messy and tousled. All the makeup and product the genius wore to keep up the facade had been wiped away and Tony, strangely, let himself look so vulnerable, so raw, in front of a high-schooler. _

_ And his voice was rough and coarse, as if he had been screaming down a void, bellowing for someone who refused to hear him. His nose was tinged pink and he was sniffling a little. His face, though mostly harsh lines and shadows, was flushed with a greyish, sickly color that was a mix of red and a sallow shade.  _

_ Anyone could tell that the man was not sleeping. Nor eating. He was flushed, burdened with fever, and looked close to crumpling. _

_ But still, Tony flashed a small, yet genuine smile towards Peter Parker. “Just don’t go posting it on the internet or showing your friends either. You’re not even supposed to be in here. I don’t let anyone come into my workshop. It’s my safe place so if I find this thing online, I will put so many restricting protocols in your suit with embarrassing names, you’ll still be unlocking “Diaper Duty” at the end of the year.”  _

_ Peter laughed behind the camera, but the look Tony gave him was not one of any laughing matter. “I won’t put it online.” He said hastily, the camera shuddering a little as he shook his head as well. “Promise.”  _

_ It was strange to hear Tony admit something like that so easy. Vulnerability was something he had always avoided if he could help it. But with this kid, he didn’t seem to care. It was almost as if he was confiding in a family member.  _

_ His son, maybe.  _

_ Tony wiped his hands with a grease towel and then offered the flustered teenager a soft grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes but was authentic all the same. He was exhausted to the point where it seemed as if moving his face required him to exert all of his energy. Something which he did not seem to have a lot of.  _

_ “So you said you wanted to--” Tony began okay enough, but his voice had broken and cracked until there were no more words coming out. He tried again, but only a measly squeak escaped.  _

_ The camera shuddered a little where Peter had subconsciously fidgeted a little awkwardly, unsure as to what to do to help his obviously sick mentor. But he stood there patiently and lowered his phone a little so that the camera wasn’t completely in Tony’s face. _

_ Meanwhile, the genius had closed his eyes for a second so he could take a few deep breaths. Even the rise and fall of Tony’s chest seemed unsteady and a little shaky. He took a couple seconds before clearing his throat. “When you texted Happy… yesterday… you told him that you… wanted to see firsthand how to build the suit, right?” The question came out as more of a wheeze and Tony’s throat rippled the more and more he was straining it. He turned his head to cough into the crook of his elbow. It was a deep, grating cough and when Tony turned back towards the teenager, his eyes were a little watery.  _

_ “Yeah, I did ask him. I didn’t know you were so sick when I asked him, though. Maybe I should take off for the day and let you rest. You seem pretty tired.” There was a hint of pity in Peter’s concerned voice and it made Tony’s brows furrow.  _

_ The camera dropped as if the teenager had forgotten that he was recording and it was angled towards Tony’s knees.  _

_ “I’m fine, Peter.” But the sound was barely more than a whisper now because Tony’s voice had just up and left. He hacked into his elbow once again and cleared his throat in an effort to bring some of his voice back, but… _

_ “Mr. Stark, I really think you should lie down. I think you have a fever.” The camera raised slowly and settled on focusing on Tony’s chest and the bottom half of his face, as if Peter was holding his phone across his own chest.  _

_ On another day, Tony would have denied being sick to the ends of the Earth. He would have stuck by his denial and powered through with a somewhat cranky, short-tempered, but manageable mood. Yet, despite all that, he would have done everything in his power to give Peter Parker the time of his life.  _

_ He would have because he had no one else left.  _

_ But on that particular day, Tony’s chest deflated and his knees slackened just a little. His hand reached up to his temple so that he could rub slow and hard at that one spot on his head. The quakes and reverberations of his headache seemed to originate from that exact spot. “Okay… I just need to… sit down… for a second.”  _

_ With that, he shuffled over to his swivel chair and gently lowered himself down into it. His movements were sluggish, his breathing shallow and labored. The camera bobbed up and down as Peter went up to his mentor meticulously and silently.  _

_ “I can help you go back upstairs before I go. If you have some Campbell, I could heat that up for you if you’d like or--” Peter clamped his mouth shut as soon as Tony raised a brisk hand.  _

_ “Could you whisper?” The genius wheezed, but not unkindly. “FRIDAY…  could you dim all the lights in here and on my…  on my floor?”   _

_ It was strange to say the least because Tony--genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and a Stark--had never before in his life acquiesced to feeling weak or tired without several hours or even days of prodding and nagging just so that he would get some rest. But in this picture, he was bone-deep fatigued to the point where it seemed as if it pained him to speak or stand.  _

_ Tony put his head in his hands and breathed heavy, shallow breaths half through his mouth and half through his nose, which was stuffed up.  _

_ “I’m sorry, Pete. I promise… we can…” The words trailed off into a chest-rattling cough and tears gathered at the corner of his eyes.  _

_ “Mr. Stark, it’s okay. Really. You sound extremely sick. And I think you have a fever.” The teenager remembered to whisper out of courtesy. “Let me help you get back to your room and then I’ll take off. Should I tell someone that you’re sick so you don’t have to take care of yourself?” _

_ Tony shook his head and instead, got up on shaky legs which looked like they were going to crumple at the knees.   _

_ “You don’t want me to tell anyone?” There was a hint of disbelief and pity in Peter’s voice.  _

_ “There’s… no one to… tell.” The ailing genius turned his head to cough thick and heavy into the crook of his elbow. He swayed on his feet, thrown a little off-balance, and Peter quickly reached forward to steady him. The camera was now angled at the ceiling.  _

_ There was Tony’s face. The almost sunken in cheeks and the copious amount of wrinkles said enough. Peter was in the picture too, his large, frightened doe eyes were scanning his mentor’s face.  _

_ “I’m okay, Peter.” Tony whispered. “I just need… to lie down.”  _

_ Peter simply stared, his gaze full of concern and a deep sympathy for his ailing mentor. “There’s really no one to take care of you?”  _

_ But Tony tucked his face into the crook of his elbow before coughing painfully and the question was forgotten.  _

_ “Oh shit. I forgot to turn this off.”  _

_ The screen turned black.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh I'm so horrible! All of you leave such lovely comments and I have not had ANY time whatsoever to respond to them. But I will eventually, so sit tight and forgive me please. I appreciate all of you so thank you :)


	6. Million Dollar Question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics are a flashback/sex scene. 
> 
> Also, I have read every single one of your comments and I promise I will take the time to respond to them as soon as I can. 
> 
> I also just wanted to acknowledge that I hope you all can show a bit more sympathy towards Steve from here on outward. I know the things he has done (in this story) are inexcusable (completely and without question), but he is also suffering from mental illnesses that are pushing him down the slippery slope. Maybe, as I am the author, I tend to hold a bit more tenderness for Steve in this fic because I can see that he needs so much help. Many of you have caught onto that as well. 
> 
> Of course, that doesn't mean you guys are not entitled to your own opinions. You are. I appreciate every single one of your comments. I just hope I've left you with something to consider.

“Sometimes I wish you stayed dead.” 

Steve sensed Bucky standing behind him before he could say anything. He always sensed whenever someone would invade his safe space. For him, it was the roof. Tony used to call it Steve’s favorite brooding spot. The soldier would go up to the top of the Compound whenever there was a lot on his mind and he would watch the sunset or the stars and he would think about how much had changed. How much  _ he  _ had changed. 

Sometimes he had wished he could go back because it all had felt so… so  _ wrong.  _ He was a man out of time and he had lost  _ everything.  _ It all had felt so foreign to him, the new century. He had felt so restricted, so trapped and lost. 

Other times, he would look up at the sky and find the North Star and Tony would come up behind him and tell him that no matter how lost he felt, that star never moved. 

Steve had told Tony that he was the North Star in his life. They would dance cheek to cheek, swaying to invisible music. 

But when Bucky had come back, Steve had forgotten he had ever said that to Tony. He had forgotten a lot of things when Bucky had come back. 

It wasn’t anyone’s fault. It certainly wasn’t Bucky’s fault. Yes, he had him back. He got a part of his life back, a part of  _ himself  _ back. Hell, he got his brother back. At the same time, though, at what cost? 

The Bucky with him now was not the same Bucky he had lost on that train so many years before. 

“I know, Stevie.” He heard as the metal armed man sat beside him on the edge and dangled his feet alongside Steve’s. “Sometimes I wish it had all just ended the moment I fell off the train and hit the rocks.” There was a pause where the two watched as the sun disappeared over the horizon and the colors dissipated into a steady black. “I spent more years of my life as someone else, a killing machine, rather than myself.” 

“That wasn’t your fault, Buck.” 

Bucky sighed. “I know.” The words were quiet and they flew away on the breeze. “He told me he forgave me. Before he did what he did.”

Steve stayed silent. 

“It was a week before it happened. He told me he didn’t blame me and that he was sorry for attacking me in Siberia. For blowing my arm off. He said he overreacted.” Bucky shook his head and stared straight up in the sky. 

It took a couple of seconds, but Steve found the North Star. He stared at it for a while and wondered if he could find his way back home if he followed it.

Trouble was, his home was still lying in a hospital bed. 

“The doctor said that she’s going to take him off life support if he doesn’t wake up in a week.” He didn’t even hear himself saying it, but he assumed he sounded morose. Dead, even. “I was so livid. I think I yelled at her. Security dragged me out.” 

Steve thought he felt empty inside, but the tears kept coming. He didn’t know he had any left. That was all he seemed to be doing nowadays: crying. 

The truth was, Steve hadn’t been yelling at the doctor. He had been yelling at the being, who was cackling at him from behind her. The being was so beautiful and it hurt to look at him because the being was Tony, but he--he  _ wasn’t-- _ but he looked like him and he smiled like him and he talked like him, but… he was so  _ evil.  _

Bucky was clutching him now. And oh, that noise… was that him screaming? 

What a terrible sound. 

* * *

 

After the ‘explosive argument,’ it had felt like everything had shattered into a million more pieces than they had began with. Tony had distanced himself and Steve had stopped pining. Therapy had become a thing of the past. 

It had happened by mistake, really: the day Steve had felt like things were maybe going to be better, if not alright. 

The others had gone out for a mission. It was stealth oriented and it required level headed people who didn’t have so much repressed within them. People like Natasha or Sam. So they had gone while Steve had stayed behind.  

Steve had always been aware of the hot tub that sat a few feet away from the swimming pool. He had never used it, but he remembered Tony hinting at wanting to use it with him before, back when they were happy together. 

So that night he had clambered in and he had let himself bask in that bubbling warmth while staring out over the night sky through the huge, glass windows.  

⚜⚜⚜⚜

_ He didn’t know how long he was there for. He guessed he had lulled himself to sleep by listening to the gushing of the steamy water while he had been massaged by the rolling gusts of heat against his back.  _

_ Steve only snapped to attention when he heard the swing of the door into the pool area and small, padded footsteps coming his way.  _

_ “FRIDAY, some mood music? The slow kind. And some lighting. Make it red.” _

_ That voice. God, how Steve had missed that voice.  _

_ The room filled with the echoey tunes of a rock song Steve had heard before, but couldn’t completely recognize. The beats were slow and soothing.  _

_ The footsteps halted in front of him and Steve was afraid to look up. When he finally did, he caught an eye full of a silky bathrobe and a man whose face he hadn’t seen in so long. The man he still loved.  _

_ Back when they were happy, Steve had called Tony his drug. He had been addicted to him from the way that he would laugh to the way he looked when he slept.  _

_ But in that moment, Steve felt like he was truly drunk on Tony Stark. Because damn, did he look so incredibly beautiful.  Almost ethereal, but in the most sensual of ways. Especially when the red lighting hit his face and illuminated his body. He almost looked like fine wine.  _

_ In his hands, there was a bottle of lube. The same one from the bedside table he had used to share with him. Tony quickly hid it behind his back. Steve’s eyes had already caught it.  _

_ “Hi.” Tony blurted out abruptly in an effort to mask the awkwardness.  _

_ “Hey.” Steve said, still pretty much fully naked instead of his boxers, which he still had on. He wondered whether Tony was wearing any clothes under his robe. Probably not since he had come in here wanting to spend the night touching himself… “I’m sorry.” He was aware he sounded a little out of breath, but he had to get out of there before his dick dug his grave for him. “I didn’t know you were coming. I’ll go.”  _

_ “No.” Steve froze, his heart beating a little too fast in his chest. “Stay. Please.” There was a small hint of desperation in Tony’s voice. Internally, Steve was screaming. But on the outside, he smiled and leaned back once more to feel the thrust of the warm water against the small of his back.  _

_ “It’s good to see you, Tony.”  _

_ “You too, Cap.” Tony looked down at the floor and seemed to study the frothy water as it bubbled and gurgled. He still held the lube behind him and he looked like he was debating on what exactly to do.  _

_ Steve admired the way the red hues highlighted Tony’s wide, sparkling eyes and accentuated his curves. His body was always a work of art. He missed what it had felt like to worship it.  _

_ “The water’s nice.” He found himself saying before he could stop. “Isn’t this what you came to do?” Steve sank a little lower into the warmth by bending his knees.  _

_ “Yeah. I just… I didn’t know you’d be here.”  _

_ Blue eyes met brown ones under the crimson colors and Tony lowered his hands from behind his back, revealing the bottle of lube. He placed it gingerly by the edge of the tub and straightened up again, his arms wrapping around his body and pulling the fabric tighter around his skin.  _

_ “It doesn’t have to mean anything.” Steve said, still waiting for Tony to do something. “This doesn’t have to be awkward.” Another pause. “If you need me to leave, I’ll go.”  _

_ “No!” Tony threw his hands in his face exasperatingly and when he removed them, his cheeks were flushed a deep red. Steve smiled. It had been so long since he’s seen Tony blush. “Jeez, Steve, I… I’m not wearing--”  _

_ “It’s fine.” Steve almost winced. He sounded too eager, but hadn’t meant to. “Like I said, it doesn’t mean anything. Besides, I’ve seen you naked many times before.” He actually cringed at the last part. Oh God, why?  _

_ Tony huffed, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “Fine.” He said. “It doesn’t mean anything.”  _

_ “It doesn’t mean anything.” Steve repeated.  _

_ He focused on the music, made it louder in his head, just so that it wouldn’t affect him as much as it did when Tony finally did drop the robe.  _

_ The both of them froze as Tony’s olive skin joined with the red hues of the room and the tub, which emitted a soft crimson hue due to the interior lights.  _

_ “You’re beautiful.” Steve breathed as memories came flooding back and there was nothing but an empty ache in the pit of his stomach.  _

_ “Don’t.” Tony shot back, a little breathless himself as he walked down the stairs into the tub, sighed at the influx of heat, and settled in completely.  _

_ “Sorry.” It was just the tiniest bit heartbreaking when Tony put as much space between them as possible. “I’m sorry for everything, Tony.” _

_ “Can we please not do this now?”  _

_ “Sorry.” _

_ “And stop apologizing. Admitting that you’re wrong doesn’t look good on you.”    _

_ Steve’s face fell a little. Yeah, he guessed he deserved that. But when he caught the tiny smile Tony flashed at him, he thought maybe this didn’t have to be as painful as he was making it out to be.  _

_ “Just joking, Steve.” Tony said softly, sinking down into the water until only his shoulders and neck were sticking out. Before the soldier could open his mouth, Tony stuck up a finger. “Ah. Wait. I can sense your next words. Wait for it…” He made a thinking motion by stroking his goatee and tilting his head to the side. Steve chuckled and shook his head. “Is everything a joke to you?” Tony blurt out, snapping his fingers and then pointing at the blonde while wearing a funny grin on his face. “That’s the million dollar line, isn’t it?” They laughed for a second, just the both of them.  _

_ “One of the first things you said to me when we first met.” Tony added on after they calmed.  _

_ “I thought you weren’t nostalgic.”  _

_ The genius shrugged. They stayed in silence after that and Tony leaned back against one of the thrusters. A tiny moan escaped past his parted, pink lips. _

_ Steve was tumbling in an avalanche of want, need, desire, lust, and love. Yet, he couldn’t act on a single one of them. When had things gotten so broken between them that a single joke, something they used to share all the time, made him feel farther away from Tony than ever before?  _

_ “I missed this.” Steve tried tentatively, tiptoeing his way around his words. “I missed you.”  _

_ Tony peeked past closed eyelids. “It’s not like I’ve gone anywhere, Cap.”  _

_ “You said you needed time.”  _

_ “I did say that.” Tony met Steve’s desperate, blue gaze. “Don’t look at me like that. This was a chance encounter. I’m still not ready.”  _

_ Steve’s eyes fell. “Right.” He deadpanned. “Of course.”  _

_ “It’s hard, Steve.” Tony’s voice seemed so far away now.  _

_ “I know.” _

_ “I have nightmares.”  _

_ “So do I.”  _

_ “Bad ones. You die, I die, everyone dies, and that  _ **_shield…”_ **

_ “I’m sorry.”  _

_ “What’d I tell you about apologizing?”  _

_ Steve clamped his mouth shut and willed himself not to cry. He made this mess. _

_ They didn’t speak anymore after that and Steve lost himself to the music, to the water, the stars, to Tony’s eyes… and it hurt like hell to look into those eyes and know that they could never be his again.  _

_ “You’re staring.” Tony smirked when he said that and Steve wanted to hate him so much for making him feel so vulnerable.  _

_ “Like I said,” Steve smirked right back. “You’re beautiful.”  _

_ His stomach did a backflip when Tony smiled softly, his lips twitching upwards and his gaze brightening just a little.  _

_ “I’m old.” The genius shrugged. “And a tall, blonde, and gorgeous specimen like you should speak for himself.”  _

_ Steve pressed a hand to his heart in mock flattery. “Aww, the great Tony Stark is capable of giving compliments.”  _

_ “Don’t sass me, Rogers.” The shorter man put his elbows up onto the platform above the tub and hoisted the rest of himself up so that he was floating on his back. He pushed off so that he could completely lie atop the bubbling water.  _

_ It was only through instinct that Steve took it upon himself to spin Tony’s body until the genius’ head was floating in front of his abdomen. He ran his hand through the brunette’s wet hair. “You’re not old.” Steve stroked his fingers through the clumped, dark locks before moving them down to caress Tony’s cheeks. He traced the goatee and even grinned a little when Tony’s eyes closed of contentment. “There’s still a fire inside of you that makes you young. Your good heart makes you young. Your spirit and your smile. You’re always most beautiful when you’re laughing. And when you’re like this--raw, unguarded--you glow.”  _

_ “Okay.” Tony chuckled. “Hold the sap, would you babe?”  _

_ “You love it when I’m sappy.” _

_ “Yeah, well, I love a lot of things about you.”  _

_ Steve’s lips twitched up at that and Tony’s eyes shot wide open, as if he himself was surprised at his own admission.  _

_ “Tony--” The soldier began, a new sort of hope flooding his heart.  _

_ “Please.” Tony interrupted, his tone no longer playful. “Let’s not do this, okay?” _

_ Just like that, the rapids of hope grew stagnant and Steve’s heart broke in two once more. The silence grew upon them again and Steve focused his hearing on the bubbling and rushing of the hot tub.   _

_ It was only after a couple minutes where Steve was caressing the sides of Tony’s face while the genius floated in the water--either staring up at him with those doe eyes or staring at the ceiling--that Tony broke the delicate quiet. “Do you remember that one time I convinced you to go skinny dipping with me in Italy?”  _

_ Steve flashed a glowing smile at the memory. “And I pushed you into that lake without even letting you strip? And you flailed into the water wearing my sweatpants and my t-shirt? Yeah, I remember.” _

_ Tony snorted. “You’re such an asshole, you know that?”  _

_ The both of them shared a chuckle and for the first time since that day in Siberia, Steve finally felt like he had truly come home. And for him, home was Tony Stark.  _

_ “I remember that day. I remember the stars…” Steve began again, delving into a trance of reminiscence.  _

_ “There it is again. Plug that hole in, there’s way too much sap leaking out of there.”  _

_ Maybe it was the heat of the water bubbling around them or maybe it was the sudden sensation of feeling like nothing was wrong, that they were back in the good days, that made Steve lean in and peck Tony on the nose. It was a quick thing and his lips were barely on Tony for more than half a second.  _

_ But it was what happened after that that truly made it seem as if all the air had sucked out of the room.  _

_ Steve stayed leaned in, his breath mingling with the small huffs Tony expelled. Prominent, striking brown eyes met rich, blue ones the color of the ocean.  _

_ “I remember lying on my back in the water, just like this--” Tony whispered against Steve’s flushed cheek. “--and you spun me while I floated.” _

_ “And that was the first time you were ever truly quiet.” The blond chuckled lightly and tilted his head forward, staring intently at Tony’s upside down lips.  _

_ “Most effective way to shut me up, then. That’s how you remember it?”  _

_ “No.” And Steve ceased to think, he ceased to worry, he ceased to care. He closed the gap between his and Tony’s lips and they stayed like that: upside down, for what seemed like the longest time.  _

_ When they naturally pulled apart, Steve didn’t want to let go. For so long it had felt as if Tony had slipped through his fingers and now… the genius was finally here in his arms and they were together and alone and Steve  _ **_needed_ ** _ him.  _

_ He had felt so alone.  _

_ And now he knew. He needed Tony. _

_ So he kept peppering kisses all over the genius’ face, on his goatee, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and he tried to drown out Tony’s breathless “Steve. Steve, we said it wouldn’t mean anything.”  _

_ He knew he had to stop. He knew that he shouldn’t let the desperation consume him. He knew he shouldn’t let himself go so far under that he would begin to bask in the fantasy of the old days.  _

_ But there he was, going back to that night in Italy, where the stars had burned bright above them and their twinkle had reflected in Tony’s rich, brown eyes and he had been saving money for a ring…  _

_ Steve backed away and bit his lip to keep the tears back. Tony straightened up and was now standing in the water once more. The fantasy faded because there were no more stars in the sky and they were in New York, not Italy and he didn’t know whether or not the money for the ring was still there.  _

_ He didn’t know if it mattered anymore.  _

_ So he let the tears fall because who cared if he cried anymore? Who cared if he was vulnerable? Who cared that Tony looked at him with so much pain nowadays because every godawful thing in the universe had gone wrong for them? Who cared that he was drifting further and further away from Tony Stark, the man to give him a home in the twenty first century, the man he had fallen in love with, the man he still wanted but could never have again because… because…  _

_ Steve opened his watery eyes when he felt Tony bump foreheads with him. Their breaths mingled as nimble fingers brushed at his cheeks.  _

_ “Steve…” Tony breathed as he gently cupped the soldier’s face.  _

_ “I’m sorry.” He whimpered pathetically, closing his eyes once more to the brunette’s soothing touches. “I’m so sorry. I ruined us, I ruined what we had. I’m sorry, I’m so--”  _

_ He was interrupted by warm lips pressing against his and then those same lips kissing each of his flushed cheeks, collecting the salty tears. _

_ “I still love you, Tony.” Steve whispered to the smaller man before leaning down to nuzzle his neck. “I never stopped loving you.”  _

_ He wrapped his arms around the genius and pulled him closer. When Tony didn’t protest, he let his hands fall to the brunette’s waist. Their gazes interlocked. After so long, the sparkling electricity between their bodies had faded. The anger and the frustration had faded and now all that was left was a desire. A lust. A need to make up for lost time.  _

_ So they claimed each other’s lips. The kiss was searing, desperate. The heat surrounding them intensified and for the first time, Steve truly felt the steam of the water licking his slick skin. He suddenly became so much more aware of the fact that Tony was naked.  _

_ Tony pulled away and it was almost enough to bring Steve to tears with the disappointment of having come so close to the man he loved once more, only to be torn apart. Because despite how much they tried, it would never erase Leipzig or Siberia or December 16th, 1991 and that was--that was the most heartbreaking part of it all.  _

_ “Could you spin me in the water?” was what he heard instead of the, what he had thought was inevitable, end. Tony was a little breathless, his lips were red and kiss-swollen, his hair was wet and plastered on his head in a mess, and his eyes held that same desperation, that same desire, that same pain… those same tears. “Like you did in Italy. Spin me, Steve.” And amongst the crimson hues, Tony looked so beautiful, so vulnerable, so utterly  _ **_him_ ** _. Steve knew that there could never be another form more raw, more unguarded, more… real.  _

_ Steve splayed his hand onto the center of Tony’s arc reactor scar and pushed him back gently. The genius obeyed and let himself fall backwards into the water, propelling his legs upward so that he could float.  _

_ The soft rock in the background grew louder because somehow, FRIDAY seemed to know.  _

_ Tony smiled up at the super soldier, his lips spread wide and his face crinkling at the corner of his eyes and his mouth. It was a genuine smile, something Steve hadn’t seen since… since before Ultron.  _

_ Slowly, Steve placed one of his hands on Tony’s shoulder and one on his opposite side’s thigh. The steaming water rippled as the genius’ body glided and rotated. His chocolate brown orbs flicked up towards the ceiling and there was a strange sort of contentment in them. A complete and utter peace Steve couldn’t recognize, but cherished seeing it on Tony’s face all the same. _

_ The moment was different from the one in Italy. In Italy, Steve had felt like he was in a dream and that he had been swimming with Tony in a sea of cosmos and Tony had been floating amongst the stars, where he belonged. But in this moment, Steve felt awake, more grounded than ever.  _

_ As he spun Tony, he watched the rise and fall of the smaller man’s chest. He watched how his eyes seemed to glaze over, as if he was lost but at the same time, exactly where he wanted to be. He watched how gracefully he laid, the bubbling water conforming to the curves of Tony’s body. He watched the man he had fallen in love with so many years before and decided… he decided that there was nothing that could ever take that away from him ever again. _

_ “I love you, Tony.” Steve rested his hands on Tony’s arm and waist after a few minutes of silence, where the only sound between them was the swishing of the water and the low beats of the music in the background. “And you are worth the world to me.”  _

_ Tony simply stared, his eyes illuminated by the dim, red lights. He lowered himself back onto his feet elegantly and took a step forward.  _

_ When their lips met, the universe shrank to the size of a pebble. Steve could feel the shudder of the potential energy that was harnessed within. But then… then the universe exploded. Stars, planets,  _ **_life_ ** _ was created once more.  _

_ Steve groaned into the kiss, gingerly trailing his hands up from Tony’s thighs to his hip before following the perfect curve that led to a beautiful ass. A tiny moan escaped past the genius’ lips when Steve cupped and squeezed the plump cheeks. Soon enough, Steve felt Tony’s erect length grinding against his abdomen and his own collided with Tony’s thigh.  _

_ The genius’ light pants consumed his hearing and Steve reached down, under the water, and spread a thumb over Tony’s slit, prompting a whimper and an arching of his back.  _

_ Up until then, Steve had kept an iron grip on the smaller man’s ass, but Tony quickly pushed him away, breaking the kiss and exposing Steve to the coldness in the air.  _

_ But Tony just looked at him, eyes drunk with lust, and dragged a finger down Steve’s chest. “Hold that thought.” He whispered before walking through the foaming, steaming water and making his way up the stairs of the hot tub, his ass swaying.  _

_ Steve kept his razor sharp, blue eyes on Tony’s naked body as the genius sat himself down by the bottle of lube he had brought earlier. Tony’s olive skin was slick and slippery, with drops of water trailing down his arms and chest and neck. His dark brown hair was plastered against his scalp and Steve watched hungrily as Tony ran his fingers up and through it, messing it up even more. And his dick? His dick stood up at attention and Tony’s fingers were now on it, tapping a rhythm which resembled the beat of the rock song playing in the background.  _

_ The white boxers Steve had been wearing were now shucked off and forgotten. They were both naked now. The playing field had levelled.  _

_ The soldier watched as Tony stroked himself, the tip of his length dripping with pre-cum. He pressed his thumb against the wet tip and Tony moaned.  _

_ With expert movements, Tony slathered the lube all over his hand and spread his legs. Steve’s breathing became short as Tony displayed his entrance to him before reaching down and pressing against it with a well-slicked finger. “Steve…” The brunette groaned as he continued to apply pressure to his hole. Meanwhile, Steve kept himself stationed in the same place, letting the warmth of the water add to the warmth he was feeling in his crotch.  _

_ “You’re so beautiful, baby.” The soldier whispered, keeping eye contact with the genius who was making himself writhe helplessly.  _

_ Tony inserted a single finger inside his puffy, pink entrance and the brunette threw his head back, his mouth parted and eyes closed, expelling a high-pitched moan. His back arched to form a perfect curve and his ass was more prominent than ever.  _

_ Using slow, rocking motions, Tony began to fuck himself with that single finger. He pumped it in and out, opening up the smooth, creamy velvet inside so that Steve could enter and worship. That thought alone, paired with watching his lover do it in front of him, was enough to make Steve growl, low and guttural.  _

_ He couldn’t help but wrap his hands around the base of his cock so that he could keep the pleasure at bay. His dick throbbed with desire and longing, radiating heat that could match the temperature of the hot tub. _

_ “Add another finger, sweetheart.” Steve said, moving closer and closer to his love. With sweet, whispering touches, Steve dragged his own fingers up the brunette’s slick, olive skin until he reached the peaked, sensitive nipples. Gently, he bit down on one while he pinched the other.  _

_ The sound of Tony’s whine almost was enough to end the soldier right then and there. He leaned back from the genius’ nipple to admire Tony’s second finger joining the first one. This time, Tony scissored himself. His small frame thrust deeper and harder into his velvety insides, spreading himself nice and loose. “Ah… ah… ah…” Tony panted, perspiration joining the drying droplets from the hot tub.  _

_ With a small smirk, the super soldier went back to work on his lover’s sensitive nipples, swirling at the peaked skin with his tongue and worshipping the desperate sounds escaping Tony’s lips. He trailed his nose across the genius’ chest, pressing deep, territorial kisses which were sure to leave marks. He found the arc reactor scar before moving upwards. Gently, Steve bit down on the area between Tony’s neck and shoulder before licking the small hurt and kissing it. He peppered more kisses on Tony’s jaw line, grazing the goatee, before finding his lips, which he claimed intensely.  _

_ Steve began working his way downwards again, more quickly this time, and he stood back a little and bent at the knees so that he could catch a perfect view of Tony’s entrance being opened up, being prepared, just for him.  _

_ “Another finger.” He growled, voice laced with lust. Tony obeyed and let out a low whine when the third digit was added. His back arched and he spread his legs even wider. “That’s it. Love yourself, Tony.”  _

_ Steve lowered himself down so that he could place one hand over each of Tony’s kneecaps. The water bubbled and frothed around him and he felt the pressure of the thrusters on his body as he sunk into the tub till his shoulders so that his face could be aligned with the inside of Tony’s thighs. Steve licked his lips as Tony pulled his fingers out, curled them, and then stuck them back inside him so that he could roll his knuckles into his loose entrance. Tony hissed and hunched forward, gripping Steve’s shoulder with his free hand and pushing in even harder.  _

_ Meanwhile, the soldier dipped down to press tender kisses along the hairless insides of Tony’s thighs. He felt the genius shiver and shudder under his touch and Steve knew that the smaller man was close.  _

_ He kissed all the way up until he reached Tony’s balls, which he palmed gently. Tony moaned in response.  _

_ When Steve took Tony into his mouth, the genius let out a gasp before he clutched Steve’s blond hair and held him in place. The soldier worked his mouth efficiently, taking his lover deeper and deeper down his throat. Thanks to the serum, he had no gag reflex so it wasn’t much trouble for him to take more and more of Tony.  _

_ “Shit--Steve. God, that feels--that feels so good.” Tony strained as Steve brought a hand down to stroke himself simultaneously. The pleasure came to him in perpetual waves as he began jerking himself harder and harder. At the same time, the soldier hollowed out his cheeks and swirled his tongue on Tony’s slit, prompting a low moan from the genius as he orgasmed.  _

_ They both came at the same time and Steve swallowed up every drop of Tony’s bittersweet taste, lapping at the tip so he could be thorough. He let go of Tony’s dick before moving to the side and lifting himself out of the hot tub.  _

_ The two sat side by side. Tony’s chest moved up and down slowly, but he kept rocking his hips, fucking himself with his knuckles. Steve ran his hand down Tony’s arm, the one he was using so diligently, before guiding Tony’s digits out of himself and intertwining their wet, sticky fingers.  _

_ Steve dropped his face onto Tony’s shoulder, inhaled deeply, and sighed. “You’re so open for me.” He murmured onto the brunette’s olive skin. “You’re so pretty like this.”  _

_ Tony chuckled. “Whatever you say, stud.”  _

_ The soldier lifted his head and kissed the genius’ cheek. “I mean it.” _

_ Tony made his way up onto his feet and groaned a little when he stretched upward so that his back arched and the curve of his ass was made prominent. When he looked back down towards Steve, he laughed. “I always forget how the serum makes you ready to go within seconds.” He gestured towards Steve’s thick, long length which stood up for attention once more against his abdomen.  _

_ “It’s not the serum.” At Tony’s raised eyebrows, Steve laughed and raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, it’s partly the serum. But mostly…” He got up as well so that he could place his hands on Tony’s smooth, plump cheeks and knead the muscle, “mostly it’s because of you. You turn me on, Tony Stark.”  _

_ “Yeah, well, you’re kidding yourself, Steve Rogers. I’m too old.” The genius shrugged self-deprecatingly. “You’re going to want a younger man soon. Or woman, if that’s what you prefer.”  _

_ Steve simply stared at the man before him long and hard. Frowning, he sucked his teeth and leaned in for a soft, tender kiss. He rested his forehead against the smaller man’s and allowed their breaths to mingle. “You are the most handsome man I have ever known and I don’t want anyone else but you, you idiot.”  _

_ “Really? I would think Bucky’s got about ten more points on me, don’t you think?”  _

_ The tone was genial enough, but Steve still snapped back, eyes welling with the pain and regret he thought he had forgotten for the last thirty minutes. He watched Tony’s face fall, his smile shrink, and his eyebrows furrow. “It was a joke, Steve.” He said somberly.  _

_ “Don’t talk about yourself like that.”  _

_ “I was  _ **_kidding_ ** _. Jesus.” And they were back with the irritated, electrified atmosphere. Back with the angry words and the raised voices and the sideway glances where they did nothing but wish for something more than this half-life, this  _ **_lie_ ** _ between them.  _

_ “Bucky and I are like  _ **_brothers,_ ** _ Tony. I don’t see him the way I see you. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you accept that? Why can’t you accept that I still love you and that I can’t live like this, wandering around  _ **_lost_ ** _ waiting for you to  _ **_say something!_ ** _ So that I can decide whether or not I should keep trying or if I should try to move on or if… or if…” Steve slapped his hands on his face and growled in them, aggravated. He moved his hands away and his palms came back wet. “You drive me crazy, Tony. Ever since the day I met you, all you’ve done is drive me up the wall and I hate it. I hate it but I love it and I just… I can’t…”     _

_ He felt his neck being pulled down and he met Tony’s lips halfway. The kiss was desperate, messy, vulnerable, but oh, so perfect all at the same time. “I’m sorry, Steve.” He heard a quiet whimper. “I’m sorry.” _

_ “I love you.” Steve whimpered back.  _

_ “I know.” They kept kissing, holding onto each other as if they were trying to hold onto water that was slipping through their fingers. “Be gentle with me, Steve.” Tony panted as the soldier’s digits found their way into the genius’ velvet.  _

_ “I’m never going to hurt you, sweetheart. I promise.”  _

_ The two gathered the bottle of lube and made their way to Tony’s floor, where the bed was already adorned in silk sheets. Steve laid his lover onto the bed delicately before lubing his dick up and lining it up with Tony’s loosened hole. He pushed in slowly, allowing the smaller man to adjust to his length. “Is this okay?” He breathed as Tony wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist.  _

_ “Yeah. Yeah… go.”  _

_ Steve rolled his hips tenderly, keeping a steady, soft rhythm. He buried his face in Tony’s shoulder and Tony held him down in place by the hair. His small moans and huffs of breath were music to the soldier’s ears. When he found Tony’s prostate, he angled his thrusts toward that same spot, determined to please his lover.  _

_ A low whine escaped Tony’s lips and the genius clasped the soldier’s blonde locks tighter, causing Steve to grunt as he went deeper inside. He sucked Tony’s shoulder blade, making sure to leave the marks that would mark him as his. The one hand that wasn’t holding his head in place went down to knead at his muscled ass. Steve dove in more fluidly and more intensely in response, arching his back and causing Tony to squeeze tightly at the soldier’s plump cheek out of waves of pleasure. _

_ The heat and friction built higher and higher between their slick bodies as Steve kept the fresh memory of Tony’s fingers pumping in and out of himself playing in his head. But what pushed Steve to letting his libido for Tony subdue him was the vulnerable, unguarded look on the genius’ face: his large, doe eyes rolled back, his luscious lips parted as he whimpered, and the water dripping from his wet hair and down his flushed face.  _

_ Steve let his hands caress Tony’s smaller frame as he thrust deeper and deeper, his body moving in the motion of a wave. He dragged his hand up slowly and found his lover’s nipple, which he massaged with the tip of his finger before pinching the peaked, sensitive skin. Tony arched upwards with a gasp, clawing at Steve’s back.  _

_ When Tony started weeping, Steve asked him if he was okay, if he was hurt. But Tony begged him to keep going. “Please.” Was what he whispered amidst his tears, pants, and moans. “Please.”  _

_ Steve came inside Tony while Tony came into Steve’s hand. The soldier sagged on top of the genius and kissed both of his wet cheeks. He pulled out slowly and collapsed on the other side of the bed.  _

_ Tony curled up against Steve’s side and rested his head on the soldier’s bicep. They stayed in silence for several minutes with Steve stroking a hand through Tony’s dark hair.  _

_ “I would have married you, you know?” Steve found himself murmuring into the darkness. “I was going to propose.” _

_ Tony stayed quiet. But then, “I would have said yes.” More silence. “Back then.” He added.  _

_ Cap’s heartbeat thundered and he couldn’t tell whether it was because his heart was breaking or whether it was because of all the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “And if I asked you now?” Silence. “Tony?” More silence.  _

_ A sigh. “I wouldn’t say no.”  _

_ For a second, Steve’s heat slowed.  _

_ “But I wouldn’t say yes, either.” _

* * *

 

Clint was perched in one of the most impossible spots of the whole Compound. Natasha had been looking for him all day, but she hadn’t been able to find him. Steve had only stumbled upon him by accident.

He was sitting on one of the triangular formation made by three beams criss-crossing in some brilliant, geometric foundation only Tony would have the intelligence to come up with. 

There were only three more days left before the doctors will take him off life support. There was one more video left on the flash drive. Steve felt more and more like the life within him was draining away and sometimes he wondered if it would hurt if he simply stepped off the roof… 

Anyway.

Steve was having one of his brooding sessions at one of the balconies of the Compound, the one off the communal floor, turning over all the thoughts in his head, when he looked up and he found the archer. 

That was when Cap realized that he wasn’t the only one turning those kind of thoughts over in his head. 

“I blame myself.” Clint said casually enough as he turned to lean against one of the beams and let his legs fall, one on either side of the beam he was sitting on. Steve could see his face clearly now. To say the man looked haggard would have been an understatement. 

“Have you been up there all day?” Cap crossed his arms in front of his chest to mask the intense beating of his heart and he hoped that Barton wouldn’t see him for what he was: a super soldier meant to embody perfection, but was instead, falling apart spectacularly. 

Erskine must have been flipping over in his grave. 

“You know, Laura called me today.” Clint completely ignored the question. “We’ve been talking to each other over video chat or calling under encrypted numbers to keep out of Ross’ radar. She told me over the phone--all excited and everything, I’ve never heard her so… happy--and she told me that FRIDAY contacted her. We get to go home. Stark’s lawyers got Ross off our backs and…” Steve heard the other man’s breath shudder. When he spoke again, his voice broke and Steve’s own breathing went shallow. “Sometimes I wonder why I left them. Why I came running at your beck and call, why I broke the law, why I came out of retirement when I had them by my side. When I had everything.” 

“You rescued Wanda when she needed you, Clint.” 

“I ‘rescued’ Wanda because I felt like I owed Pietro a debt.” The wind whistled between them as they both grew silent. “And I left my family behind… for her. But who am I kidding? I can’t blame her. This is all on me. You know, Nate talked to me on the phone. He was babbling like little kids do and it was adorable. But Lila, when she talked to me… I couldn’t recognize my little girl. She sounded cold and distant, like she didn’t even want to talk to me. Cooper just flat out didn’t even… But Lila asked me, ‘Daddy, is Wanda more important than us?’ How the hell is anyone supposed to answer that?”  

“It’s not about what you did. It’s about how you try and fix it from here on out.” Steve wondered if his Cap voice made it seem like he had even a semblance of control left.

Steve barely flinched when Clint jumped down gracefully beside him. “Is that what you tell yourself to help you sleep at night?” 

He thought about lying, about saying that the archer had no idea what he was talking about, that he had no right to say what he was saying because he  _ didn’t know.  _

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Was what he said instead. 

Silence. 

“I said things to him. Terrible things. Yet, he still--” That’s when Steve looked up to find hot, angry, frustrated tears pricking at the corner of Clint’s eyes. “Like I said, I blame myself.” 

“Don’t.” Cap ordered, keeping the wavering of his own voice at bay. “Don’t do that to yourself.” 

“We used to be really great friends, Cap. Tony and I. We used to be--” A pause where the archer balled his fists and clenched his jaw in an effort to hold it in, to stay in control. “Now they’re going to take him off life support. Because--because it all piled up for him: what I said, what Wanda said, whatever the fuck happened in Siberia between you two… this was our fault. As much as we deny it, we made him feel like  _ shit _ and nine times out of ten, he took it with a straight face until the end.” 

“You can’t spend the rest of your life blaming yourself, Clint.” 

“Well then, what the  _ hell  _ are  _ you _ going to do?” The archer raised his voice and invaded Steve’s space, but the soldier didn’t even blink. 

“Clint.” Natasha’s clipped cool voice came from behind them and she was leaning against the doorway, her emerald eyes hard and unforgiving. 

“You’re kidding yourself, Steve. You’re kidding yourself if you don’t believe that  _ we did this! _ ” 

Internally, he was screaming. They were trapping him, imprisoning him, slapping shackles on his wrist like how the ice had so many years before. They were yelling in his face and expecting him to lead or give an answer or smile or fix everything, but he… he was so  _ tired.  _

And Tony was going to die. 

Before he knew what he was doing, his hands were around the archer’s neck. He lifted the man off the ground and throttled him, seeing only red and feeling only the scorching of the flames in his heart and in his blood as they consumed him from the inside out. He bellowed in Barton’s face, babbling nonsensical things about how he couldn’t sleep, how he couldn’t breathe, how he couldn’t turn a damn corner without seeing the being staring back at him, mocking him, laughing at him,  _ cackling  _ at him as Tony slipped further and further away. 

Then he felt a stinging pain in his jaw and he was thrown backwards onto the concrete and there was a metal arm clutching him in place from behind. And Sam was there too now and he was saying something in soft tones to him but Steve couldn’t hear. No, there was too much… it was so  _ fucking loud  _ because… 

The background was only white noise and a distant ringing. There was a muffled noise too, the sound of someone being suffocated. 

Oh wait. 

That was just him. 

* * *

 

He found Barton again later that day. They apologized to each other in soft tones, both of them too weary to say much to the other. 

Steve thought that meeting the other man’s eyes was the worst mistake he had ever made. He wasn’t prepared for the amount of remorse, the amount of pure, unadulterated pain. And it was even more terrifying to the soldier because he had so often seen that same haunted, empty look in his own irises every damn time he glanced in the mirror. 

“I never wanted him to die.” That was the wretched whisper Steve was condemned to hear from the archer. Those were the broken, watery words he was never going to escape. 

But this time, it was Clint’s face that contorted and it were Clint’s tears which spilled down his cheeks in a constant, unforgiving stream. It were Clint’s knees that crumpled. 

But it was Steve who knelt down beside a broken man this time. It was Steve who comforted and soothed the guilt ridden exhaustion and frustration. 

“Why did he do this to himself?” Clint sputtered and Steve repressed the urge to laugh hysterically. 

Because wasn’t that just the million dollar question? 


	7. The Last Video

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: This chapter has implied sexual assault in it. There is nothing graphic, just a mention that it happened.

Steve watched the last video on the day it was supposed to happen. It was only a matter of a couple hours now and Tony would be gone.  

He couldn’t bring himself to go. He had gone every damn day. He had sat through the monotonous beeping and the smell of antiseptic and the bland walls and had punched at the being who wore Tony’s face when he was really just punching at the wall. But on the last day, he couldn’t even bring himself to leave his own room. He couldn’t stand to watch Tony’s chest deflate for the last time. To accept that those cold fingers would never be warm again. 

For the longest time, he thought the video was some sort of mistake. There were only muffled noises and shuffling of objects. The frame itself was lopsided and pointed towards the ceiling. He recognized the corridor outside the communal floor.

Then he heard it. A voice. It sounded distant, almost muted. It was Tony.  _ “FRIDAY, clear up some of the videos you have saved on your mainframe. The ones that look like home videos, not my tests.”  _

_ “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to store a few of them for old times sake, boss?”  _

_ “I’m many things, FRIDAY, but nostalgic is not one of them.”  _

_ “Of course.”  _ The AI deadpanned in a sarcastic tone. After a pause, she asked again,  _ “And what of the CCTV footage from the Raft?”  _

The shroud of silence was almost tangible. 

Steve was confused. Which footage from the Raft? He had made sure when breaking the others out that he had taken out all the cameras first. There was no footage of that night. He had been thorough in deleting the evidence. That was why he had been acquitted in court on that charge so easily. 

It couldn’t be the footage from the three days Clint, Sam, Scott, and Wanda were in jail. He had personally gone over those tapes. He had even shed a tear or two of longing when he saw Tony come to visit. There was nothing incriminating there either because his boyfr--his  _ friend _ had so wisely knocked out the audio at the perfect time.

So what was this about? Why was Tony so hesitant when he usually almost always knew what he was doing? 

_ “Delete them. Wipe them off the face of the Earth, FRIDAY. There should be no traces of that footage anywhere. Ever. The court case is over. Ross has been incarcerated. We don’t need them anymore.”  _

There was a shuddering in the genius’ voice, as if he was repressing a torrent of boiling, unspeakable pain that was slowly bubbling up to the surface. 

But Steve was still confused. He had asked Sam, Clint, Scott and Wanda thoroughly about what they had to go through in the three days they were stuck in that underwater pokey. Other than the fact that Wanda was stuffed in a strait jacket, the four had simply sat in their cells, drowning in boredom.  

So what was Tony talking about? 

The frame suddenly blanked and another scene began. It was as if someone hastily slapped the two videos together in a case of bad editing. 

It was in the middle of a court case. The pews were empty and the camera was situated in the middle of the aisle so that the judge and the two sides of the battle were in view. 

On one side, Steve could make out Tony and a man who sat beside him. Presumably his lawyer. On the other side was General Ross’ stiff back and a stout, bald man sitting beside him. There were several other men, most of them with crew-cuts, sitting beside Ross. Their gazes were focused on the floor and there seemed to be a predatory stance about them. 

The judge was a middle aged woman and she peered over her glasses every now and then, her shrewd, gray eyes boring into both the stiff-jawed Secretary of State and Tony Stark. 

Steve leaned in closer to the screen, trying his best to decipher the atmosphere in the room. The picture was slightly grainy and even Steve’s enhanced sight couldn’t exactly decipher what exactly was happening. 

He turned the volume all the way up. 

_ “The anonymous jury finds,”  _ the judge began, leaning back slightly in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest,  _ “that Secretary Ross, or, effective immediately,  _ **_former_ ** _ Secretary Ross, is found guilty on charges of  arresting Tony Stark and the former Avengers: Clint Barton, Wanda Maximoff, Sam Wilson, and Scott Lang, without due process or a fair trial. Furthermore, Thaddeus Ross is found guilty on charges of purposefully tampering with evidence and covering up several instances of assault, both physical and sexual, performed by the prison guards in the underwater prison known as The Raft. For this, Thaddeus Ross’ position in the American government has been terminated and he will spend a total of 20 years in military prison as well as pay a fine of $10,000.”  _

Wait.

Steve paused the video. His fingers trembled intensely. 

What?  __

Assault? 

_ Sexual  _ assault? 

Rape? 

But--

But--

Steve had gone over the CCTV footage himself. He had asked Sam and the others and they seemed unscathed. Normal. None of them had showed any signs of… of what the judge was saying. 

Had the guards attacked Wanda? Oh God, had Tony been able to find something in the CCTV footage that he hadn’t? Is that why Tony had taken Ross to court? Oh God. 

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God. 

Steve dug his nails into his palm. No, this can’t be happening. This… why would Tony keep this from him? Why wouldn’t he say anything? Why didn’t Wanda say anything? She never seemed too upset from her time at the Raft other than the fact that she had been restrained in the strait jacket. 

He found himself dialling Clint’s number before he even knew what he was doing. 

“Hey Steve.” He heard. Steve couldn’t bring himself to speak. It was as if all the words he had been planning to say, all the questions burning on the tip of his tongue, simply faded. He was left gaping, his mouth open stupidly as he fought back tears. 

“Steve, you okay? What’s wrong?” A pause. “Is he gone?” He asked in a soft, shaky tone. 

“No, I--” The soldier began, trying to search for the words without stumbling. He didn’t want to think about the fact that Tony was going to be gone. He couldn’t--not… not now. He was failing miraculously. “I just--”

“Steve?” 

“Did… did Wanda ever tell you anything about… about her time at the Raft? Was she--” He couldn’t bring himself to ask. “Did the guards ever… hurt her?” 

“You mean rape?” Clint’s bluntless shocked Steve. 

“H-how’d you--”

“I’ve been around, Cap. I’ve seen things. Heard things. Experienced things.” 

“But--”

“And no. She wasn’t. None of the guards touched any of us. We were all in close proximity so we always saw what was happening. The worst they did was put her in a strait jacket. That was all.” 

“A-are you s-sure?” 

“Yeah Steve. I promise. We’re all fine. The Raft could never hold us back.”

There was a steady silence. 

“But I have to ask, Steve.” The archer sounded so weary. “Why are you asking all of a sudden? I know she’s been a little upset recently because of your outburst the other day but she’s been doing pretty okay. So how come--” 

“Nothing.” Steve snapped, relief flooding through his veins. As much as he couldn’t even bring himself to look at the young mutant, he couldn’t fathom such a heinous thing being done to any of them. It was wrong, it was--it was the worst thing any human being could ever possibly do. “I just… I was…” He found it impossible to come up with an excuse. 

“It’s okay, Cap.” Clint said in a reassuring tone. “Look, I… I gotta talk to Laura. I need her right now. I don’t know what I’ll do when we get that call. I’m not strong enough to deal with this, but… I’ll talk to you later.” With that, the call was cut. 

Behind the archer’s words there seemed to be a subtle understanding. A sympathetic, maybe even empathetic, aura. Steve didn’t want to think about it. 

He kept watching. 

_ “Due to visual evidence and the recounts from Mr. Stark himself, the jury also finds the four prison guards, whose names will remain undisclosed due to orders from the American government, guilty on charges of sexual assault and sexual battery upon Anthony Edward Stark during his three weeks of unjust imprisonment in the Raft. For this, you four are being sentenced to life in prison with no possibility of parole. The court is adjourned.”  _

…

…

… 

Steve watched as the four nasty, disgusting,  _ vile  _ men were handcuffed and taken away. He watched as Ross followed, also handcuffed. He watched Tony’s lawyer speak to the genius in soft tones before he patted his shoulder. He watched Tony sit still and silent in the same position for several seconds before the judge approached him. 

She took the genius’ hands in her own and met his eyes with a soft, sympathetic gaze. Her gray eyes were not so piercing anymore. 

Tony looked so lost. So thin and gaunt and… and alone. Drained to the point where those big, brown eyes were dim and dull, to the point where his cheeks were hollow and he looked so… so small and vulnerable. 

The judge began to whisper something to him in soothing tones and that was when the genius’ face contorted and silent tears escaped. 

Steve closed the laptop the second a large sob wracked through Tony’s body. He took out the USB. He stared at it. 

Then he crushed it. Again and again under his fist until his knuckles were tinged an angry red and he couldn’t feel the pain because he just felt so, so numb. 

He flushed the pieces down the toilet.  __

“He never told anyone.” The super soldier spun to meet Natasha leaning against the door. Her face was grave. Her emerald eyes were dull. “I only found out by accident. I… I had overheard a conversation between him and Colonel Rhodes.” 

There was a roiling rage surging in his body. But the men were put away. Ross was gone. Justice had been served and Tony was… 

Tony was going to die. 

Because he wanted to die. 

Because something terrible had happened to him and no one… no one had known. 

Because he had been put away in the same jail the others had been put in. And they had… they had all snapped at him, spewed nasty comments, spit at his feet… 

And Tony had taken it. All of it. He had never once said a word. 

Steve thought back to all the times he had tried to initiate sex. All the times Tony had pushed him away. All the times Steve would get frustrated and angry because Tony had seemed like he wasn’t even trying. 

“I--I--I  _ didn’t know.”  _ Steve let himself collapse as he wailed out those few words. He let ugly, ugly sobs wrack his body because there was nothing left. This story wasn’t going to end well and they all knew that. They were going to unplug Tony, as if he wasn’t a person but a fucking  _ machine.  _ Tony was going to  _ die _ and Steve was going to lose the one man who he was able to love after Peggy. 

He felt Natasha guide his head forward to rest on her abdomen. They stayed like that, the both of them, for what felt like hours. 

“The day before we found him, he asked me if I thought anyone would care if he faded away.” Natasha mumbled after some time, when Steve’s sobs turned into pathetic whimpers. Steve froze, no longer feeling the warmth in her hand as her fingers stroked through his hair. “I told him that it wasn’t right to think like that about himself, that he should focus on being a superhero because the world needed him to be strong.”

_ “You’re right.” Tony had said. “I should just get over it.”  _

“You knew.” Steve interrupted, the rage turning into a blackness he couldn’t recognize. A taint. He pulled away from her clutch. “You knew what he was going to do.” 

“He nodded, turned, and left and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So I went downstairs to his lab that evening to talk to him and I found packets of papers with all of our names stuck onto them with post-it notes and that’s when I…”

“You could have stopped it.” His voice broke, the pain washing over him and strangling him. He wanted to hate Natasha. He had been looking so long for someone to blame and now he finally had a chance for some closure. A reason. An explanation so that when Tony was gone, he wouldn’t have to spend the rest of his life in a constant cycle of hell, wondering  _ why.  _

“I didn’t see it coming, Steve. You can’t pin this on me. You can’t--” Her voice broke too. The woman who was always so strong, so focused and steady minded, was losing her resolve. Steve had thought that she had always thought of Tony as a mission, but he could see now that she cared. She always did. 

And that’s why this--the guilt--was killing her the most. Guilt was always a silent murderer.  

Natasha Romanoff, who always predicted the impossible, had not been able to see the obvious. And for that, they were all going to pay the price. 

“Then why are you telling me this now?” Steve roared, the blackness consuming him, blinding him. “When he’s on the brink of death and we’re all going to lose him? When I just found out that Ross had put him in the Raft for a month where he was  _ raped?  _ Why, Nat? Why do you have to--why--”

And just when he began to stumble through his words, his phone rang. It vibrated against the desk and neither Steve nor Natasha made a move to answer it. 

He didn’t want to answer it. He didn’t want to answer it because he knew that the second he did, it would make it official that Tony was really, truly gone. And he couldn’t, he  _ couldn’t,  _ accept that. 

So he let it keep ringing. He let it so he wouldn’t have to hear the words that told him that the man he loved--the man whose smile made the stars brighter, whose eyes were home, whose goodness no one could beat, whose heart beat loud and true against all odds--was taken from him. 

Natasha picked it up. Steve held his breath when she breathed a soft “Hello?”  

There was silence where Steve could hear his heartbeat thrumming in his chest. He could hear the roaring of his blood in his veins. Silent tears rolled down his cheeks and he replayed the memories in his head. 

Tony and him kissing for the first time. 

Tony throwing him a surprise birthday party. 

Tony flying through the air in his suit, carefree and happy. 

Tony playing with a kitten Steve had brought home from the shelter until they both realized that the reason Tony kept sneezing was because he was terribly allergic to it. 

Tony and him dancing under the stars. 

Him hiding a small box behind his back with a ring in it so that Tony wouldn’t see it until he got the perfect chance to propose. 

He never had gotten the chance.  

“Okay.” Natasha said, her face sporting a pallor and her eyes downcast. “I’ll let him know.” 

As soon as she put the phone down, she looked towards him, emerald eyes shimmering. Steve shook his head slowly. “No.” He croaked, crumpling at his knees once more and burying his head in his arms. “No, no, no, no, no.” 

“Steve.” Natasha stepped closer and reached forward with a gentle hand. He swat the hand away and refused to meet her gaze. 

There was only white noise and a dull ringing in the background. In the distance he could hear himself sobbing and Natasha’s soothing voice calling his name. “NO!” He wailed, raking his jittering fingers through his sweaty hair. “NO!” 

“Steve.” He heard again in the distance. He felt someone shake his shoulder. “Steve!” Clearer this time.  _ “Steve!”  _ He turned his head towards the assassin as she cupped his face. 

But she was smiling through her tears. “He’s awake.” She breathed before chuckling and wiping at her cheeks. “Tony woke up.” 

* * *

 

Tony didn’t woken up alone. It was Rhodey who had sat by his side for the last week, holding the genius’ hand so they could spend every last second together. 

An hour before the doctors would switch off the ventilator, Tony’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused and a little glassy. Rhodey broke down completely when he felt the tug of a familiar, calloused hand, still cold but no longer stagnant. 

Pepper and Happy were the next ones to receive the news. They were sitting outside the room the entire day. It was Pepper who looked through the glass separating the hallway and Tony’s room to see those big, brown doe eyes open. 

She was the one to call Steve’s phone, which Natasha ultimately answered. 

Upon receiving the news, Steve dashed down to the medical wing of the Compound with the red-haired assassin close behind. He knew he looked a mess, what with his face flushed a deep crimson, his eyes puffy and red, and his clothes disheveled. Yet, Steve could care less. 

Tony was alive. 

And those were the only words running through his head. 

Word spread fast and almost everyone was already gathered in the corridor, waiting for the doctors to ease Tony off the ventilator and replace it with a less intimidating cannula. The hallway was full of loud and excited chattering, hugs, and relieved tears. But Steve walked past all of that to look through the window.

There he was. Weaker, thinner, more fatigued than Steve had ever seen him, but alive. Awake. Breathing. 

Steve looked around him waiting for the being to come mock him, to say that all of it was a joke. But the being did not come. The real Tony was behind the glass. 

And he was going to be okay. 

As the doctors gently manhandled Tony off the ventilator and inserted the cannula through his nostrils, the gazes of the genius and the soldier met. Steve offered a small, encouraging smile and pressed his hand on the glass, letting his lover know that he was here and he was not going anywhere. 

Tony simply blinked at him through bleary eyes, an empty, almost cold stare, before the doctors laid him down again. The head doctor stayed behind to ask him some questions before patting his leg and smiling down at him. Tony asked her something really slowly and he seemed to wince when he said it, as if speaking caused him pain. He curled up on his side when she left, facing away from the window. 

Steve knew that he didn’t deserve to feel hurt by that small, almost dismissable action. 

It still wrenched his heart just the same. 

“He says he wants his ‘honeybear.’” The head doctor said with a soft smile towards Rhodey. The Colonel returned a teary one of his own, offered Pepper and Happy a small nod, and went inside. 

Steve made to follow when the doctor placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I asked Mr. Stark if he wants any other visitors, but he said he only prefers the Colonel’s company at the moment.” She whispered with a hint of pity for the super soldier. 

Steve’s shoulders sagged in discouragement. He nodded and clenched his jaw to keep the tears at bay. The doctor sighed before giving his shoulder a soft squeeze. “His voice is incredibly hoarse from misuse and the ventilator. He’s also plagued with fatigue so he may fall asleep in a little while. I’m sure he’ll ask you to come in a bit later.” Steve nodded again, watched her walk away, and bunched his fists before releasing them and crossing his arms over his chest. Maybe if he moved his arms a little, he could get rid of his restlessness, the feeling of being so incredibly useless. 

He sat outside with the others for hours. Bucky sat with him in soothing silence, the both of them seeming to send messages of comfort despite their closed lips. Natasha let him rest his head on her shoulder and Sam occasionally made small talk with him, something which Steve appreciated, but would rather not partake in. Most of the time, however, the Air Force veteran would pace up and down the corridor in stony silence, his expression grim and tense even though the worst was over. Wanda and Clint sat near each other, but the archer was avoiding her a little. His leg bounced up and down anxiously and she was weaving her crimson magic through her fingers lazily. Vision stood rigid and tense against the wall.

The ticking of the clock was way too loud. 

After some time, several of them fell asleep. Sam went down with Happy to grab some coffee and snacks for everyone. Steve was wide awake, however, and so was Bucky. Natasha had slumped over to the side, having fallen into a restless sleep. Her hand was still loosely gripped in Steve’s blond locks.   

In this solemn moment of stagnancy, Rhodey silently stepped out of Tony’s room. Steve darted his eyes toward the sound of the whirring of the Colonel’s brace. The veteran and the soldier locked gazes. 

“He’s sleeping now.” Rhodey whispered, taking notice of the others who were curled up and slumbering. 

Steve gently removed himself from Natasha’s grasp. She blinked her eyes open blearily, but turned over to her side after gaining view of the scene before her. Bucky put a hand on Steve’s knee and gave him a brisk nod. “I’m going to get some air.” He said before letting Rhodey take his seat and walking away. 

The Colonel hunkered down slowly and sighed. His eyes were tired and the lines on his face embodied weariness. “He’s okay.” Rhodey said in a soft voice. “He’s going to be fine.” 

“That’s all that matters.” Steve responded as he fiddled his thumbs, a nervous tick. “What’d he say?” 

Rhodey smiled tiredly. “You mean, did he say anything about you?” Steve stayed silent. “He did. He asked how you were, if you were doing okay. The usual.” 

Steve nodded again and the silence shrouded them once more.

“I saw the videos. On the flash drive.” The soldier murmured after a couple of minutes of awkward quietude. “I saw the court case. I know… I know what happened now.” 

He thought about all the times he would ask Tony why he hadn’t called, why he hadn’t tried. Now he knew… Tony had been arrested the same why the others had been. Except he had been alone. Alone and defenseless. 

Steve wondered whether Tony had ever really left his prison cell. 

He wondered if him returning to Tony’s life didn’t put Tony back in it. 

There was still so much he didn’t know. Steve didn’t think he would ever get a chance to learn the whys and the wheres and the whos and the hows. He didn’t think he deserved to know. 

“Those videos… were not for you to see.” Rhodes’ voice snapped him back. 

“I found the flash drive by accident in his lab.” Steve bowed his head and looked at his hands to hide his flushed face. 

“Those were  _ private videos  _ Rogers. That flash drive was  _ his.  _ He kept those videos as milestones because his therapist told him that the only way he was going to get past his traumas was if he remembered them and accepted them. You had no right--” 

“I  _ know!”  _ Steve strained his whisper and finally met the Colonel’s sharp gaze. He could see the hot, frustrated tears pricking at the corner of the man’s eyes. “And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. For  _ everything.  _ You have to know that. You have to know that if I had  _ known  _ about how he was feeling for all those years, if he had  _ told me  _ about what happened to him--”

“That’s rich coming from you.” Rhodey snapped and Steve quieted instantly. “You know what the problem is, Rogers? He shouldn’t have had to tell you  _ anything _ for you to give a shit about him. If you had really cared about him for all those years, you would have known without anyone having to tell you a  _ single thing _ .” There was a charged pause and Steve blinked to hold back tears. The tension did not dwindle, but neither of them spoke. 

Steve whispered a small “I’m sorry” a little while later, but Rhodey didn’t respond. 

When Sam came back with the coffees and a few sandwiches, Steve thanked him and tried to smile.


	8. I Loved You Once

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go: the final chapter

Tony came home from the hospital wing a day later. Steve visited him while he was awake for hours on end. The conversation didn’t stem farther than hoarse “How are you”s on Tony’s part and bouts of weeping on Steve’s part. 

They barely spoke to each other. Both of them seemed to say enough through their blue and brown gazes. 

Each member of the team stopped by, some eager and excited while others were reluctant and somber. 

Peter Parker stopped by once. He hugged Steve tightly after his visit with Tony and thanked him profusely. Steve didn’t know why.  

He didn’t bring up what he learned about what happened to Tony. The solemn face Tony wore already said that he knew Steve knew. Rhodey was never one to hide things from his best friend. 

The first day of Tony’s return was awkward. He wasn’t allowed to be alone, nor was he allowed around sharp objects, pill bottles, and the works. It always felt like everyone was walking around eggshells when talking to him. 

It was Tony who jokingly said in the middle of breakfast one day, “Stop treating me like I’m fragile. I’m not going to break, jeez. I just woke up out of a coma, I’m not dead.” Steve shot him a sharp look at that, but Tony simply shrugged. “Just saying.” He mumbled in between bites of eggs. 

“He’s right.” Natasha agreed and the others had murmured their concurrence. 

Steve smiled and pressed a gentle hand to Tony’s shoulder. “We’re all here for you, sweetheart. We care about you.” He didn’t dare say ‘I love you.’ He didn’t think he could deal with the pain of not hearing it back. 

Tony grunted and shrugged Steve’s hand off. “Don’t call me that.” He said casually enough. The words still stung. 

What stung more, though, was when Steve grinned despite the hurt, saying “Okay” before leaning in to peck Tony’s lips… and Tony turned away, leaving Steve to clash into his cheek. Steve inhaled the scent of aftershave and cherished the caress of Tony’s smooth skin under his lips for a second before pressing his rejected lips against the man’s cheek and stepping back. He cleared his throat to cover his embarrassment and turned towards the sink to wash a few dishes so that his crimson flush wouldn’t be obvious. 

Steve never knew  how to approach the topics of the court case, the Sokovia orphanage, or the therapy session, all of which he found out about through videos he wasn’t supposed to see. He tried to start a conversation, but Tony cut him off. “I’m going to stop you right there.” He said. “I don’t want to talk about any of that, okay? Don’t bring it up again.” 

Steve acquiesced silently.  

The Parker kid returned another day and Tony spent a whole day with him in the lab. They even went out for a couple hours with Happy and had gotten ice cream. Steve noticed that Tony was remarkably happier that day. 

That was the first day Tony let Steve hold his hand and they visited the lake Tony loved so much. They sat under the stars in silence for the longest time. 

“Hey, Tony?” Steve breathed in the other man’s ear as he brushed the brunette locks back behind his ear. “Do you think we’re ever going to be okay again?” 

“You mean, do I think this war between us is ever going to end?” Tony responded after a while. 

“I don’t see it as a war, Tony. I didn’t ask that.” 

Tony shifted from his position of sitting in the space between Steve’s legs and using the soldier’s upper body as a backrest to look up into his eyes. “Everything is a war to you, Steve. It’s not your fault. You were born into it. You grew up with it. You’ve always had to fight your entire life. Whether it be because the army wasn’t accepting you because you were too scrawny or because your Bucky got captured by Hydra or because you didn’t want to conform to a government’s agenda, everything in your life has been a battle.” He paused. “And that includes me.” 

“You’re not an obstacle. Okay? You’re not something that gets in the way of what I want or I believe. Tony,  _ you  _ are who I want.” 

“You still don’t get it, do you Cap?” Steve blanched at the nickname. It felt too formal, too rigid. “I  _ do  _ get in the way of what you believe. I  _ do  _ get in the way of what you want. You disagree with the Accords and you always will when I think it could be good for us. A way to retain accountability. And that’s okay, you know? Disagreements are okay. But I’m always going to stand firm on my ground, Cap. Just like how you are and that makes me a problem. It makes me… a barrier for you.”

“But I signed the Accords, Tony.” There was such desperation laced in Steve’s voice and he pleaded, down to the green in the blue of his eyes, for Tony to see. 

“You did. As an obligation, though. You’re never going to fully agree with it.”

“I’m not.” Steve admitted.

“But we compromise where we can, right?” Steve recognized Peggy’s words in what Tony was saying. “But where we can’t--”

“We plant ourselves like a tree.” Steve finished. 

Tony sighed. “Yeah.” A pause. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” 

“For lying to you. For not listening to you. For not being there for you when you needed help. For leaving you in Siberia.” 

“Do you regret what you did?” Tony asked after a couple seconds. 

Steve thought about it. “I regret what happened.” He said finally. “But I don’t regret fighting for Bucky. I don’t regret fighting against the Accords.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

Tony exhaled slowly. “You’re sorry for what happened after the fight. But you’re not sorry for whatever you did during the fight. And that’s okay. Because I accept that now.”

Steve stayed silent. 

“But there’s one battle I’ve been fighting that I now realize I can’t win. No matter what I do.” Tony’s voice had lowered to a whisper. “You chose Bucky.” Steve’s heart stopped beating in his chest. “You chose Bucky and I haven’t been able to come to terms with that. Until now. I know I can never compete with that. I know I can never be good enough for you and you know what? That’s fine. Because I forfeit from that battle. I’m not fighting that war… with myself anymore.” 

“Tony,  _ no--”  _ Steve had tried so hard, he had given  _ everything  _ into winning Tony back. And there it was. Tony was right. Everything  _ was _ a war for him.  

“And paired with everything that happened when Ross arrested me…” Tony’s small inhale shuddered, “I’ve realized that sometimes, we fight and we can win. But in other cases, we lose and when that happens… surrendering is the only way to win.” 

“I almost lost you.” The soldier buried his face in brown hair. “I almost lost you, Tony, please don’t--” 

“I almost lost myself.” Tony interrupted quietly as Steve held onto the smaller man’s body tightly. He promised he would never let go. Like hell he was going to break that promise now. “I always knew who I was, but… during what had felt like the end for me, which was why I took so many pills that day--” Tony broke off for a second and clenched his jaw before continuing. “--I forgot my worth.” Another period of quiet where the world stilled and Steve felt, even though Tony was in his arms, that a deep, hellish trench had formed between them and Tony was on the other side, watching him, before turning and walking away.

“I love you.” Steve breathed, finding Tony’s hand and squeezing it. 

More silence. And then, “I loved you too once. I really, really loved you.” 

“Once.” Steve repeated, throat dry and a knot in his chest.

“Once.” Tony punctuated with a sigh before standing up and stretching. Steve focused on the way the light of the stars illuminated him and Steve wished that he could melt into the night sky so that the man he loved could shine brightly against him. 

Tony turned towards him and held out a hand. Steve took it. “I’m going to Malibu tomorrow.” The genius grunted as he pulled the soldier up. “I’m going with Rhodey. Pepper and Happy are flying back with me. I just--”

“For how long?” Steve interrupted, his entire world sinking beneath him. “And what about me? Tony, how come you didn’t tell me?” 

“I need to heal, Steve!” Tony raised his voice before catching himself and shrinking back. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just--I need to get better. I need to go home.” 

“I thought you  _ were  _ home. I thought we were at home  _ together.”  _

“Bucky is your home, Steve. You made that clear to me when you got him back. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t me being  _ bitter.  _ This is me setting you free. This is me… setting myself free. We’re not going to work out like this, Steve, not when I… when I’m so fucked up.” 

“You’re not--”

“I  _ am.  _ Okay? I  _ am  _ fucked up ten ways to Sunday and you have to accept that! I’m not getting better here and this isn’t helping me, nor is it helping you. You  _ have  _ to see that. That’s why… that’s why we can’t work.” 

Quiet. 

“After everything… after I almost just lost you… you’re walking away from me? You’re walking away from us?” Steve’s knees wobbled and he wanted to fall to Tony’s feet and beg him to stay, but he didn’t. He stayed standing, face to face with the man he had wanted to spend his entire life with, but had lost. 

God, how he had loved him, and he had loved him, only to lose him in the end. 

“There was  _ never  _ an ‘us,’ Steve! There was  _ always  _ a ‘you and Bucky!’” 

Silence.

“But I love  _ you.”  _ Steve’s voice was a cracking, blubbering mess. “And I know…” He calmed his heaving breaths, forcing himself to focus. “I know now that I… that I hurt you so much beyond what happened in Leipzig and Siberia and… that I was one of the reasons why you…” 

“Don’t you dare.” Tony breathed, his fists clenching and unclenching. “I asked you not to bring that up.” 

“I made you feel so alone. I made you feel so worthless. And I know that nothing will ever be enough to make up for what I did to you or how I treated you or what I expected from you when you were…”

“Steve,  _ please.”  _

“You were  _ raped,  _ Tony.” Tony choked back a sob at Steve’s broken, strained whisper. The genius lowered his gaze and put a hand to his flushed face, covering his mouth. “You deserved all the love and support in the world and all you got was… was…”

“ _ Stop!”  _ Tony begged. “Please stop, I can’t… I  _ can’t…  _ ”

“Come here.” Steve offered his arms and Tony folded himself into them, burying his face in the blonde man’s chest. “Please don’t go.” He whispered in Tony’s hair. “I’m so sorry and I promise you, Tony, that I will make it all up to you, even if it takes me years. I promise.”   __

The genius stayed silent for a long time apart from small sniffling from where he was resting his head against Steve’s chest. “Don’t make me feel guilty, Steve.” The soldier heard after a while. Tony pushed away gently. “I have to… I… I have to go. I can’t stay here, it’s… it’s tearing me apart and you…” Steve lowered his eyes. He couldn’t bear to look at Tony, not after knowing what was done to him. What he had done to him. What they had all done to him. “I can’t be the man you want to love, Steve. I was… I was  _ never  _ the man you wanted to love and… I never can be. Please just…” Steve scrunched his eyes closed. His face flushed and his knuckles were white from where he had clenched his fists. “Don’t cry, Steve.” Tony whispered.    

But Steve wept. He grieved for the future he could never have, for the man he had let slip past his fingers time and time again. He grieved for his home. So he sobbed, he let go of that stifling control. Tony embraced him and held him as he buried his face in the smaller man’s shoulder. 

“I had everything when I had you.” Steve’s words were muffled into Tony’s neck. “I was too stupid to see it.” 

Tony pulled Steve’s face back and cupped it before leaning in for a passionate, heated kiss. They molded into each other, tasting the salty bitterness of each other’s tears and memorizing each touch, each sensation before they would fall back into what they had become: old whispers of the past and ghosts of what had once been a happier time. 

They were loud and desperate that night in between silk sheets and a memory of who they used to be. They savored every moment and sound touch and for them, it felt beautiful and blissful and perfect.

Even if it was the last time.

* * *

 

Steve woke up alone when his eyes fluttered open at dawn. . 

Tony walked onto the communal floor the next morning with two suitcases rolling behind him. He was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and he wore sneakers on his feet. As casual as casual got. He wore a soft smile on his face as he said goodbye to everyone and distributed hugs and handshakes. 

When Tony got to Clint, it felt as if the whole room held their breaths. 

“Tony… I… um…” The archer began softly before stopping. His breaths were shuddering and he lowered his eyes. 

There were a few seconds of awkward silence before Tony hugged him. And that was that. 

No one was expecting it when Wanda pressed a small kiss onto Tony’s cheek and stroked his arm gently. Tony returned a tiny smile.

Natasha did the same, and for a reason Steve had since come to understand, their hug lasted longer than the hugs Tony shared with anyone else. 

“I… uh… thank you.” Bucky said quietly as Tony made his way toward Steve. “For everything you’ve done for me… even after… uh…” Tony nodded briskly and offered a small grin which Bucky replicated. 

“I wish you the best of luck Mr. Stark.” Vision said in JARVIS’ voice. 

“Me too, man.” Sam added genially. 

“Thanks.” Tony said shyly before turning towards Steve. 

Steve knew he should be happy for him. He knew that this was not about him, but about Tony and his need to get better and to be happy again. 

But a part of him stayed heartbroken at the fact that he hadn’t been enough to make Tony happy again. That was something he went without saying, however. 

Tony came up to him last and they just sort of stared at each other, lost for words. The color of the Earth and the color of the ocean collided and there were only unspoken things floating in the resulting eddies. 

Steve felt the weight of everyone’s gazes as he stepped forward and leaned down to press a long, lingering kiss on Tony’s forehead. When he pulled apart, he returned Tony’s small smile and he hugged him back when Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s torso and rested his head on Steve’s chest. 

“Take care of Peter for me, will you?” Tony asked. “I told him I was leaving yesterday and I’ll be keeping in touch with him, but he needs someone to guide him here. Do that for me, alright?”

“Okay.” And Steve meant it. He wasn’t going to break that promise. “I love you.” 

Tony squeezed tighter, letting Steve know that he cared. And for Steve, that was enough. 

“Bye.” He whispered. 

“Bye.” Steve whispered back. 

When Tony turned and hooked an arm around Rhodey’s, he didn’t look back. Steve thought it was foolish of him to wish Tony had. 

He didn’t watch the plane take off, but Natasha informed him that Tony and Rhodey were gone once she had seen them off. 

Steve wished he could feel something. He felt the sting of loss, sure. But other than that, there was a void. It was as if Tony had taken a part of Steve with him when he left. 

When he went back to the room he and Tony used to share once upon a time ago, the same room he had made love to the genius just the night before, there were two things on the mattress: the phone he had mailed Tony after Siberia and a piece of paper. 

He went to the paper first and saw that it was the letter he had sent to Tony with the phone. He looked at it for a second and was about to tear it in two when the light fell upon the white sheet and he saw that there was writing on the other side. 

_ Dear Steve…  _

It was in Tony’s handwriting. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this ended in a cliffhanger haha, but don't hate me yet.   
> I'm planning to make a prequel and a sequel to this eventually and create a series. I don't know when this will happen though, so sit tight and stay tuned I guess.   
> Thank you all for reading and I sure hope that the "not a fix-it" tag is clear now.   
> You're all amazing <3  
> ~LittleMissStark

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!


End file.
